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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077852">you're not a demon (there's a reason)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Angels &amp; Demons, Angels, Angst, Demons, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:08:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank falls for a demon and must pay for the consequences of his mistake.</p><p>He falls to Hell, but he's no demon. With angel's feathers that cling to his wings, a whole halo sitting upon his wrist, he's more angelic than his counterparts, which makes it that much harder for him to adjust to his new life and truly understand what it is he wants out of life while also keeping his head on his shoulders.</p><p>Hell is a cruel place, and Frank has much to learn if he is to survive.<br/>...<br/>A character study piece to Honestmouse's Heaven's Grief = Hell's Rain that looks into Frank's backstory and his time adjusting in Hell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero &amp; Ray Toro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you're not a demon (there's a reason)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestmouse/gifts">Honestmouse</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499880">Heaven's Grief= Hell's Rain</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honestmouse/pseuds/Honestmouse">Honestmouse</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so i was reading Heaven's Grief = Hell's Rain one day and next thing you know i jammed out 6000 words that would eventually become a monstrous 31000 in a matter of weeks. i wanted to explore more of frank's time in hell, why he was more angelic than other demons and just understand where he was coming from and understanding his desires. because i find the arc of angel to demon to human to be a very compelling arc that i wanted to explore a bit</p><p>and then that turned into worldbuilding and here we are today</p><p>chapter title comes from It's Alright by Mother Mother which fit all too well for this story</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is an order to demons just as there is an order to angels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lowest Order of Angels is simply that: Angels. Messengers, watchers, always lurking over creation as is their Heavenly duty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was Frank’s domain at one point—too young for anything more serious, powers still developing and defining themselves. Still naïve, he’s been told. Still learning his place in the hierarchy at the Creator’s feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And perhaps that’s what leads to his Fall. His naivety in thinking that he should be good and charitable to anyone and anything—demons included.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not an accident when he chooses to protect the demon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the others—the Archangels above him, even higher up to the Virtues, learn of his mistake. Doubt, they called it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are guilty of the Sin of Doubt,” they said as if in a chorus. The Virtues meeting out his punishment as the Archangels lorded over him—a scared waif of an angel (that was his first moment of Fear, not Heavenly Fear, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fear</span>
  </em>
  <span>). “For you have Doubted the actions of your Kin, so, too, have you Doubted the Will of the Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your punishment shall match your crime. Banishment from the Heavens to join those who have Doubted His Will before you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you seem so fond of the demons, may you join them throughout Eternity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first sensation of Fear had been bad enough, but there is nothing that compares to Falling.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He was created after the Fall—heard stories of the Morningstar and the Rebellion he led. And told all the things he should not do as an Angel of the Lord. That if he were to disobey the Father, then he would Fall just as the original had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling would tear his wings into husks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling would break his Halo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling would rip the Divinity and Grace out from his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But these descriptions do not compare to reality itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He Fell with the Demon he saved—back to the Realm of Hell where he belonged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t recall much as it happens—not the exact details, but certainly the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The consuming fire beneath his skin and deep within him. His Divinity, or the remnants of it, burning itself out of him as it licked at the remains of his wings. He held his arms against his chest and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wept, </span>
  </em>
  <span>nails digging into his arms as he tried to feel anything other than what was being ripped out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He distantly remembers being draped in a cloak, patted down to smother his smoldering feathers and then being lifted up—far too drained to be fully aware of his surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will take responsibility for him,” a voice said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might as well feed him to Belphegor’s minions. A thing as slight as that could hardly be of use. I wouldn’t be surprised if he faded within a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wager a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has shown loyalty and free will,” the voice spoke once more. “He could be of use given time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Very well. Your responsibility he shall be, but if you should hide him from us, consequences will be doled out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank was carried away by the very demon he dared to save. If Ray had been less reputable, less empathetic, then Frank is very sure he wouldn’t be standing here today. He knows where his loyalties lie—Lucifer, above all else, but more importantly to Ray, the only demon who ever showed him a modicum of consideration despite the consequences it carried.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>There are nine rankings of angels, but seven for demons. The demons are organized into rings based on the seven deadly sins. There is Lucifer with his Pride at the top of it all, followed by his princes—Beelzebub’s Envy, Satan’s Wrath, Abaddon’s Sloth, Mammon’s Greed, Belphegor’s Gluttony, and Asmodeus’s Lust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray happens to fall under Satan’s domain, for Wrath is where the Council and the Court resides, that which judges the souls of the damned. Headed by the Devil himself, Satan, for Lucifer is seldom seen or heard of by other than the princes and Satan’s reputation far preceded him as the unofficial ruler of Hell itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ray is not quick to anger. He’s not wrathful like his other kin who work under the Devil’s rulings. But just because he doesn’t wear his sin like his armour doesn’t mean he’s weak or someone who’s easily taken advantage of. Frank has witnessed him shatter the hands of another demon for coming too close to Frank when he was still interred and healing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the hand of the demon who dared to reach out to try and touch Frank’s ruined wings, applied some pressure, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>crunch. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Frank was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>afraid of Ray in those early days, but he was afraid of everything then. Hell is meant to amplify one’s fears, and Frank had just started to experience what fear meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t hurt you,” Ray said to him. “I won’t let them. Just rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all he could do in those days. Rest as his new state of Being reknit itself into the fashion of a demon. He woke one morning and discovered the Halo inking on his wrist. Intact instead of shattered like he expected. What did that mean? Did the Heavenly Father expect him to redeem himself? Was it even possible to expect redemption as a demon? He tried not to think about it too deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers being told by other angels that one can tell if a demon is actually a Fallen. Fallen have wings. Born demons do not—and if by some rare occurrence they do, they are mangled things of far less grace than those of the Fallen. The Fallen have </span>
  <em>
    <span>husks </span>
  </em>
  <span>of wings. Their feathers long since burnt off and leaving in their place leather membranes stretching along the delicate bones that form themselves into points and needles and claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will his wings become like that one day? Will they finally shed off the remnants of his former Glory?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But more than that there are the horns of demons. Another telltale trait of the Fallen is their horns. Jagged, crooked, uneven points that jutted from their skulls. Almost as if they were, at one point, a complete circle. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Halo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank doesn’t know what his inked Halo means. If it didn’t shatter, then maybe, surely—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lost hope of being redeemed when his own horns began to make themselves known. Just two nubs that had burst through the skin of his head one night, causing blood to spill forth down the sides of his face. Ray tended to him whenever he made a whimper of pain. He’d press his hands to Frank’s injuries and soothe him with words and gestures until Frank calmed and the pain receded into a dull ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(While Frank is aware that healing energies aren’t uncommon among demons, he’s still baffled that Ray is classified as a demon of Wrath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why did you bother to help me at all?” he asks one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved my life. Maybe it was just repaying the favour.” Ray smirks when Frank bumps their shoulders together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that’s not what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugs. “I need to keep some secrets.” Just like the one secret he won’t ever tell Frank: is he Fallen? Just like him?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it weren’t for Ray, Frank wouldn’t be alive, but it confused him to no end as to why a demon felt like he owed something to a Fallen.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Ray is held in high regard in the Devil’s domain. He has staked out his own house, his own home. He values his privacy and Frank is the only one he’s allowed into his life like this—at least, as far as Frank knows. But Ray’s desire for privacy was hard won, that much Frank knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t think Ray had a mean bone in his body. How could he? He had been courteous and considerate in Heaven, and Wrathful demons had a reputation to start altercations for no reason other than they wanted to. But Ray had a sense of restraint that set him apart from the other demons, which was why Frank was taken in by this act.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought Ray could never hurt him. Despite his size, despite his powers, despite the respect he commanded, Frank never feared him. Ray took care of him. He made sure he ate and drank. He watched over Frank through his fevers and his lucid dreams. He would tuck the blankets in around his shoulders and kept him company even if Frank said little in those early days. He rarely left Frank alone, and if he did, he was always sure to set the appropriate wards in place to keep him safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t witness Ray’s powers until one day a demon paid them a visit. Frank could hear them speaking down below. He reached up, gripped the windowsill near his bed and pulled himself upwards to lean against it and see the altercation down below. Another demon had approached the house and Ray was confronting them. He wasn’t allowing them into the house, and it seemed like they wanted in. Probably to see Frank. He was surprised no other demon had come to see him at this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” the demon said. “To </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s healing,” Ray said firmly. “You should leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prince Mammon wishes to see him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then she will visit herself. Not send one of her lackeys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear he has wings. They didn’t burn with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will ask you to leave once. This is your chance to go peacefully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If only a look—” And as the demon stretched forward their hand, made a step as if to move around Ray for the door, Ray seized their hand in a flash and snapped the demon’s wrist. Their wail was horrid. Frank flinched, but he couldn’t look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray pushed the demon away with such force that they skidded back along the ground some yards from the door. They scrambled onto their hands and knees, crouching there and hissing like some rabid animal. Ray stalked forward at a steady and measured pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come back,” Ray said, in a careful and emotionless tone. The other demon scurried forward as if to run past Ray, but Ray countered and seized them by their throat, lifting them off the ground. “I said. Do not come back here. Or next it will be your throat.” He then threw the demon to the ground and stood there before the demon retreated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ray turned around and began to walk towards the house, Frank could see the black of his eyes. How soulless they had become in his moment of wrath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank ducked down against his bed covers, daring to pull them up to his ears. He heard Ray enter the house, heard him mount the stairs, and then stop at the door to Frank’s room. Frank closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Eventually, the creak of the floorboards indicated he moved away and Frank was left alone, but he couldn’t help but shiver at the way Ray’s eyes looked. Holding no warmth or regard for the safety of others. Only for his own power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray was a demon. And while he was caring for Frank, showing him kindness and mercy, it didn’t change the fact that he was a demon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he liked having access to the only newly Fallen angel in all of Hell.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The wounds to his wings and back took a long time to heal. He remained on his front, sometimes a pillow underneath his stomach to take some of the pressure off of his neck. Some days the pain was too much, leaving him sensitive and exposed where he couldn’t handle any of the light silk sheets on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain would bring tears to his eyes, cause his breath to stutter in his lungs. It was moments like these that reminded him that his Lord had abandoned him. He hadn’t even been there when the Virtues handed down Frank’s fate and if that didn’t hurt. Wasn’t he just as important as the others? Another lost child in the end? Where was that forgiveness when he needed it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>These moments were the darkest. He’d sink so deep into his grief and he didn’t know if he could ever rise from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Ray would try to comfort him through it. He’d pull up a plush chair next to his bedside and talk to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t always be this way. I know it may seem hopeless now, but this truly isn’t a bad place to be. Certainly not what they told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He certainly felt hopeless. He blinked and a tear gathered in the corner of his eye before spilling over the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray moved from his chair to hover over Frank. He set his hands over Frank, not touching him, but hovering. Frank heard him breathe deeply before a cool surge of energy spread through his back and over his wings. He closed his eyes and nearly moaned from how good it felt. It relieved some of the tension at his shoulder blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray settled back down. “There. That should take the edge off for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Testing the waters, Frank flexed his wings minutely. There wasn’t as much stiffness as there was before. He opened his eyes. He wanted to say something to Ray, to make his thanks known, but his words were still lost to him. He didn’t know whether to swear himself to Ray and be bound to him for eternity or eventually crawl out of his house for overstaying his welcome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slept again and when he woke, it was to the sight of Ray still sitting in his chair like Frank’s self appointed guardian. He had a book open, one elbow propped up on the armrest of the chair so he could support his head on a closed fist. From this angle, Frank couldn’t see the title of what he was reading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He licked his lips, started by making a noise in his throat before he attempted to speak. “What book is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray flicked his gaze towards Frank before settling on the book. “Dante Alligheri’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Inferno. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Have you ever read it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He didn’t mention that it was looked down upon for angels to become enamoured by human objects. Angels were removed from human society so they should be removed from the things humans make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Frank had never read a book. Never played an instrument. Never done anything unless it was associated with Heavenly Grace. It took him for too long to realize how stifled he was.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know anything about Dante? He was a big deal here and in Purgatory and Heaven. Half dead and he walked through all the realms. His memory isn’t all that correct. I mean, yeah, he understands the nine domains of Hell, but he hallucinated that Satan is stuck in a pit with three mouths and chewing on three different souls. It’s a generous interpretation, but it’s still a fun read.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The genuine interest in Ray’s voice made Frank want to curl closer towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Read some to me?” he asked. He remembered hearing about Dante. It was before his time, though. The story of a human soul so lost from his still living body that he had to be led through all three realms before he could return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. We’ll start from the beginning. I’d say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Inferno </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the best of Dante’s trilogy, but that’s probably my bias showing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to the first page of the book, and Frank let his steady voice pour over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Midway upon the journey of our life</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>I found myself within a forest dark,</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>For the straightforward pathway had been lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Which in the very thought renews the fear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Images of dark forests sprang to mind, reminding Frank of the fateful night he had first been brought to this house. But instead of a deep, cloying fear, he felt only deep seated comfort for the first time since he had Fallen.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It was inevitable that a demon would come to see Frank in the flesh. Ray had power but he didn’t have the power to refuse a Prince of Hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Princes of Hell can do what they want, go where they please, and say whatever is on their mind. They are true embodiments of free will and they revel in it. For the most part, they are free to roam each other’s domains without question. Hell exists within an easy truce with the Princes respecting each other’s boundaries. Some Princes leave their domains more often than others. Mammon is a notable exception. And others choose to isolate themselves like Asmodeus and the seldom seen Lucifer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mammon came knocking without Ray expecting her. It was a blessing he was even in the house when she arrived. Frank didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if he were alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in his room when he heard the commotion downstairs at the front entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You cannot hide him forever,” Mammon said, her voice low and rough but with a note of cheeriness to it. “Be considerate that I’m the first Prince to look in on him. I’m surprised Satan hasn’t arrived yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He cares little for matters like this,” Ray said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their voices drifted through the house and up the mounting stairs. The door to Frank’s room burst open, and he flinched with the force of it. He shifted the blankets further up his body as if that could protect him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never seen a Prince in the flesh before. They were barred from entering Heaven. But Mammon was nothing like he expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t towering over him. She wasn’t much taller than Ray, but she was a sight to behold. Her black, frizzy hair created a halo like effect around her head. The candlelight of the room cast a golden glow on her black skin. Her eyes were wide, her smile soft as if she was in awe of Frank’s broken form on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what a thing you are,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She came closer and Frank could finally see her horns. He could see how it might’ve been a Halo at one point. The central two curves from how the horns jutted out from her head, but then they curved away and upward, finalizing into curled points that made her look exceptionally stately. There were several bands of silver and gold upon her horns, just as black as her skin, and she was positively draped in finery. Her clothing was colourful and vibrant, full of patterns and exquisite threading. Whenever she moved, the bracelets and bangles on her wrists would chime. She was hard to deny even if Frank felt terrified of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not as if he’s the first Fallen,” Ray remarked dryly as he remained in the doorway, letting Mammon move where she pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knelt down at his bedside. He wanted to escape, but she held him there with her gaze. A soft brown that spoke of home. Of which home, Frank didn’t know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the first,” Mammon said with a light laugh. “But certainly the latest. The most intact. Angels like him would’ve faded by now, but that speaks of his inner strength.” She craned her head back to look at Ray and remark, “Terrible thing to see how young he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Virtues have never been known to be merciful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say I’m surprised </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Father </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t dole out the punishment. Still. I am intrigued by him.” Mammon tugged the blankets off of Frank’s body. He grunted as his wings were bared to the room. He sent a pleading look to Ray at the doorway, but Ray remained unmoved. “Let’s see you in your glory.” She urged him to sit up and he did so with great difficulty, arms held against his chest as if to protect himself. His wings hung rather limply behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mammon took his chin in her hand and urged him to look up. With the other, she brushed back the long tresses of his hair—now dull and stringy. “Ah. That’s better. So unmarked. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>pure.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He would make a nice little courtier in my domain, now wouldn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because the Devil hasn’t seen him doesn’t mean he won’t miss how you’ve stolen what’s his.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>stolen. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Merely borrowed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like how Beelzebub tried to borrow me and the whole debacle drew Lucifer out of hiding for a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mammon laughed and released the grip she had on Frank’s chin. “Oh, those were exciting times. Still, better to have this Fallen here rather than in Asmodeus’s lair. He wouldn’t last a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He may decide that for himself in the future,” Ray said. “If he doesn’t shed his timid nature, I doubt he’ll do well in the Devil’s domain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. You are right. No doubt these wings would make him look like a morsel.” She reached behind Frank to brush her fingers over his feathers. Delicately at first, and the touch didn’t pain him. Until he felt her pull out one of his feathers and held it aloft. “I’m surprised they don’t burn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think I’ve been keeping him indoors?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. I suggest you teach him well. Fallen he may be, but a demon he is not. Not yet at least.” Mammon stood and smoothed out her robes while she held the feather aloft like it was her new prized possession. She turned to Ray at the door and extended her hand. He held it between both of his. “Ray, it has been a pleasure. Please, feel free to visit me. And invite your little ward with you. I would very much like to see him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Prince Mammon. You have my word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray had seen to Mammon’s departure through the front door while Frank hid himself beneath his blankets. He didn’t like how she talked about him. Like he wasn’t even here. Like he didn’t have a thought for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray would meet with him again that night, seeing to it that he ate and drank, propped up by too many pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like I should apologize for Mammon, but her visit was inevitable,” Ray said. “She’s much more respectable than the other Princes. Much more courteous. But she sees things before she sees creatures. Demon or otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like you could refuse her,” Frank said. He was coming to terms with his status as an oddity and that it would take some time until either he gained some respect among the ranks of demons in Hell or someone else would capture their interests. Until that time, he had to live with this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to think all the Princes are terrible, Frank,” Ray said. “They’re okay for the most part. The Devil—Satan—he’s not as bloodthirsty as I’m sure you think he is. Yes, he’s the Prince of Wrath, but he’s also the law and order of Hell. He helps keep the peace. It’s not as awful as I’m sure you’ve been taught, and I hope you can come to see that this place can be your home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank curved a wing around his shoulder so he could pick at the feathers and try to clean them. It was futile now, but the process was comforting. “Do you mean that I could stay here with you?” He was afraid to look Ray in the eyes. That the usual tenderness he held for Frank would melt away and he’d show his true colours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. However long you want to stay here, I have no problem in letting you call this place home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathed out deeply and felt the tension in his chest loosen. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no problem, Frank. But if you ever want to leave the house, you know you’ll need to tuck in your wings, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. He knew deep down the demons here would probably rip his wings from him and kill him. Mammon only took a feather, but Ray couldn’t vouch for the entire host of Hell. He didn’t like to think about hiding his wings, drawing them into his body. As an angel, it was the one thing he could feel a semblance of pride for. And hiding such a gift from the Father was a crime in itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said and Ray didn’t push him to say or do anything more that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he knew he was alone, he got up from his bed. Small steps along the floorboards was all that he could manage, but he crossed the floor to the nearest mirror in his room. He dropped the blanket and looked at himself. The sight of his wings was enough to bring tears to his eyes, but he felt empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his back to the mirror and began to pull his wings within himself, removing them from this part of his physical existence. When he was done, he felt slightly unbalanced, but he looked back in the mirror and felt at his back. The wings—ugly and marred—were now inked onto his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole experience left him with an odd feeling. He had already Fallen. He had his Grace ripped out. But how far did he have to go yet until he didn’t feel as lost? How much of himself did he have yet to give up?</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The landscape of Hell is something Frank never expected to see. It’s not at all like the stories of fire and brimstone and bottomless pits. It’s much like how Earth is sculpted. Various landscapes with running water, sloping hills, and towering mountains. There is wildlife here, and if Frank recalls correctly, he can remember Lucifer’s words: “The mind is its own place, and in itself it can make a heaven of hell, and a hell of heaven.” A momentous speech when he had first Fallen and brought his rebellious host with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Lucifer had a vision for his domain, and clearly wanted something good to come out of his defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank often thinks he tried to model it after aspects of Earth, like a perversion of what the Creator had done. But it’s nicer than what he had come to believe it’d be and has settled in over the centuries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Frank has to pick a favourite area of his, it’s the woodlands Ray’s house is found nearby. Each of the Princes have the ability to influence how their domain is structured. The Devil has his areas for punishing those guilty of the crime of Wrath, but the demonic entities that are within his domain can claim a spot for themselves. Many choose to live in groups, building things that can house all of them or burrowing into the ground if that’s their inclination, but Ray chose a spot within a wooded area—if you could call those twisted forms trees, but that’s everything in Hell. A twisted perversion of what’s on Earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing grand about Ray’s house, but he clearly made a stake for a space that’s all his own early on because few demons would ever try to come into his house let alone set foot on his property. He commands respect wherever he goes, even if he tries to keep his head low and his social circle, well, small. Frank still doesn’t know to this day if Ray has any friends outside of, well, Frank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s good. The house is good. It’s a comfort, and Ray has always made sure Frank knows he has a place there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Like Frank could go anywhere else. He’s been a target in Hell since day one. The demon with angel wings.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he began to recover from his Fall, he became more alert, more aware of his surroundings. He dared to leave the room he was set up in. Shouldn’t he get to know the place of his benefactor?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Ray was (and still very much is) a collector of things. Human things. Various carvings of things Frank didn’t understand, figurines he wasn’t familiar with. Books were stacked haphazardly in the corners, written in languages Frank had never encountered before. Jewelry was gathered in piles, hanging off the walls in odd arrangements. There was so much to see and do in this house. So much </span>
  <em>
    <span>vanity </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>selfishness</span>
  </em>
  <span>, things Frank knew he should be turned off by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But. . .</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands crept along the spines of the books, along the jewelry. There was a new need in him to fixate on this stuff. To wear the rings, feel the bracelets on his wrists, to breathe in the smell of the books, feel the paper between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was how Ray would find him when he returned from wherever he’d been. Frank jumped and moved to the corner of the room, hands clasped behind his back as if to hide the rings still there adorning his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(But they looked and felt so nice. If he was already damned, why not enjoy himself?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to see you on your feet,” Ray said. “Checking out my books? Yeah, they’re nothing special. Not like Mammon’s collection, but I usually just pick up whatever’s popular up top.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Frank didn’t move from his spot or even drop his defensive posture, Ray sighed and took up the nearest seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if you go through my stuff. As far as I’m concerned, it can be yours too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only a kind demon, but a demon who shared. Who hadn’t dared to boss Frank around. Didn’t demons live by a strict hierarchy? Where the newest and weakest served the strongest?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why?” He couldn’t help but ask. He had to know the reason for this kindness. One day, Ray would get tired of him and come to collect what he was owed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He licked his lips, tried to think through his thoughts. “Why are you being so kind to me? I saved your life. You saved mine. Shouldn’t that be the end of it?” Shouldn’t he have to atone for his sins? Live in pain and suffering among the other demons like the Holy Father expected of him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I can’t be good to you for no reason?” Ray asked. It was like he was enjoying this, testing Frank’s boundaries until he snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing is without reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course an angel would say that. Frank, I honestly mean when I say I want you to think of this place as your home. You’re safe here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for what? Do you expect me to believe it when a demon says they have good intentions? That they’re not doing it for themselves?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray gave him a tired look, and Frank knew he had probably crossed a line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He retreated to his room soon after to metaphorically punish himself, foregoing any of the food he knew Ray was arranging at that moment. He pulled the rings off of his fingers and set them in a pile on the table next to his bed. He remained on the floor, in a corner of his room until it grew darker and he knew Ray would be settling in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew exactly how Ray felt. He left his room as silently as he could and crossed the short expanse between their respective rooms. He opened the door as quietly as he could and saw Ray sprawled out on his bed. He remained in the doorway until he received an invitation in the way of Ray sitting up and waving him over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First he stood at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to say or if he should just straight up prostrate himself on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Ray flipped up the corner of the blankets. “Get over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did as he was told and clambered onto the bed before curling up tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Ray sigh beside him as he arranged himself on the other side of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’m sorry,” Frank muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing to be sorry for. You’re in a strange world. You’re still figuring stuff out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still. Could be nicer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Ray huff in a way that was more a laugh than something out of frustration. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be. Just try to get some sleep. You’re still healing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a while yet before Frank uncurled himself into a more comfortable position. But it felt as if something had loosened in his chest.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Frank isn’t the most powerful demon. Hell, he wasn’t even the most powerful angel among his cadre. He has some minor healing abilities, but what divine entity (demonic or angelic) doesn’t? His ruined wings render him unable to fly and even if he has them out to stretch them, they always ache from the smallest amount of exertion. Ray taught him all the skills he should be capable of in the weeks following his recovery. Creating portals and slipping through the veils between Hell and Earth are commonplace. Every demon should be able to do it, but not all demons are permitted to roam the Earth freely—as part of the treaty Hell has with Heaven so they don’t risk another war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s the ability to become incorporeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not really becoming invisible,” Ray had said. “It’s more like removing yourself from the limitations of Earth’s existence. So you can slide through walls, pass by unnoticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then if I could do all this, does that mean I could go to Earth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been to Earth only a handful of times, and it was usually associated with the Garden in some way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not as easy as that,” Ray added. “Give it some time. If you really want to go to Earth, I’m sure they’ll find something you can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Frank came to learn what Ray did. He didn’t have just one position. He did whatever he was asked and he did his jobs well. It was why he was so well liked—or why it was he seemed to fly under the radar of all the higher ranked demons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes it’s managing a crossroads and making deals with humans. Sometimes it’s escorting damned souls to where they belong. Sometimes it’s delivering a verdict or providing council to the Devil. They ask and I deliver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank shifted beside him, and Ray knew there was an important question he wanted to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has . . . has anyone asked about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than Mammon, no one had been so brazen to enter Ray’s house to come see him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not as important as you think,” Ray said and Frank inferred that he probably meant that to be a positive thing. That he wasn’t seen as an interesting anomaly in Hell. “But that doesn’t mean you can stay here forever. Demons who hide or try to avoid everything are a flame for attraction. When you’re feeling up to it, I want to take you to the Court so you can see how things are conducted here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was about time that Frank became equated with his new home, but he was terrified all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wings were hidden. His horns were small and insignificant. He tugged on the sleeve of his shirt to hide the halo tattoo that was hidden there. He didn’t want to be noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stuck close to Ray as they left the house and entered the realm of Hell proper. The Devil’s domain of Wrath was nothing special. It had its hell pits for the sinners and its fighting pits for the wrathful and angry demons that served beneath the Devil. Ray walked past everything completely unbothered. There were screeches in the air by the demons who could fly and awful snarls of those who were grounded as they neared the Council chambers. A coliseum of sorts, obviously inspired by ancient Roman architecture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stairs before it were tall and wide, leading up to a yawning grand entrance. They took the steps one by one as other demons scurried forth. It was another thing Frank had come to notice. Older demons held themselves statelier than the younger and often Hell-born creatures. And they gave Ray a wide berth. Out of respect? Out of fear? Frank wasn’t able to say, but he was grateful for the protection it offered him as they entered the Council and came to the main deliberation chambers—the Court of Hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one end of the chambers there was the grand throne for the Devil himself, innately carved from white marble. Around it were the raised seats for the audience of demons to fill in and provide a terrifying sight for any damned soul to come across.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray led him to another set of seats that was set lower near the floor of the courtroom. There were six on this side of the court and six on the other side. Ray took a seat and before Frank could follow suit, he shook his head. “They’re designated seats,” he said. “Just stand behind me. No one will bother you.” His bright smile did little to stimmy Frank’s nerves, but he did as he was told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was largely out of the way as other demons took their seats and as the chamber became full of the clambering of the demons. Whenever Ray leaned to one side of his seat, Frank leaned in to hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most cases are processed by other demons. Low level crimes or sins that are easy to shuffle around. We only reserve this chamber for larger crimes that need more specific rulings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the chamber was full, a demon dressed like she was heading off to battle took the center floor. She held a lofty spear in her hand and brought the butt of it against the marble floor several times. “Might I have your attention to announce the arrival of His Ungodliness—Prince Satan, the Devil of Wrath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At once, everyone stood and remained silent. Frank felt his skin prickle as the Devil glided into view next to His throne. His memories of Prince Mammon were fuzzy at best, but the Devil was a whole different version of a demon. For one, he was tall, towering over everything else in the room. His horns no longer conjured up the image of a shattered halo, but had grown into massive antlers. And His eyes (God above his </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span>) were empty. Devoid of anything and Frank shivered as if he felt the Devil’s gaze pass over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the Devil had taken up his throne, the audience and Council members took their seats. “Now,” the Devil said. His voice was smooth, but deep, and Frank couldn’t help but quake when he heard it. “There are sinners among us. Some deserving of the most painful and cruel of punishments. These children of God continue to shun the </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>of their Creator. Well. If they should shun Him, then they are certainly welcome here. Bring in the first case!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank was grateful to be able to hide behind the high backed chair. But he couldn’t help his own curiosity in watching as these souls were brought before the Devil and the Council to be condemned. Some would be passed off to the other Prince’s domains, for it was through the Devil that all the souls were sorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil would lead the proceedings and the Council would offer comments on how they viewed the case. Sometimes Ray would speak up, but otherwise, he’d keep himself busy with a piece of parchment and a piece of charcoal, drawing designs that didn’t seem to have much value other than to betray that Ray was probably bored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hours of deliberations filled by sharp punctuations of the demons jeering from their seats. But after the last case, the demons began to file out. The drama of the day was over. Ray stood and stretched. “Well. I could go for some food. Care to join?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he nodded, the demon in armour who stood at the Devil’s side throughout the entire proceedings, came before them before they could leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wishes you to join him in the antechamber.” And then she marched off to join her retinue, all similarly armoured guards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank looked to Ray. “It shouldn’t be bad,” Ray said. “He’s not all that blood thirsty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could’ve fooled me with the red torch light in this place.” Ray laughed a little and Frank felt himself relax. Ray wouldn’t just abandon him here. He wouldn’t be in it just to save his own skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray led him the entire way through the Council chambers. They were entirely alone, which didn’t help Frank remain relaxed, but he took strength in Ray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They came to a large set of doors, one of which was open. Two guards stood on either side of it—their faces hidden, wings out in the open, horns massive and curling, draped in finery. They didn’t acknowledge Ray and Frank as they passed, but the door was closed behind them as they entered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>High ceilings and tall windows offered a vantage point of the hub of the domain of Wrath. Where most of the demons lived, especially those trying to curry favour with the Devil himself. There was a fireplace at one end of the room, set across from the main doors, lit brilliantly with red flame. The room was filled with furniture and décor that seemed to come from all time eras and human cultures. It was stunning to see, but Frank knew it wasn’t his place to let his hands glide over everything like he was allowed to at Ray’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then something else caught his attention. It was the growl of a dog. At the foot of the fire laid what Frank could only assume was a hellhound. A dog with fur as black as night, red in its eyes, pointed ears and teeth as it came to stand on its paws and slowly stalk towards the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bruno, heel.” The voice came from one of the highbacked, ornate chairs in front of the fire. Then stood the Devil himself as the hellhound, Bruno, settled itself back in front of the fire. When he fixed his eyeless gaze on the two of them, Frank felt himself shrink back until Ray set a hand on his back, gently between his shoulder. “Yes, the recluse. And, Ray, my faithful consul. Welcome. Take a seat. No need to stand on ceremony for me. I am not the Morningstar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is Lord Lucifer?” Ray asked, keeping his tone polite and conversational as he guided Frank to sit on a settee while he himself settled on a seat closer to the Devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil glided along the ground with ease that spoke of Heavenly Grace. He went to a table against the wall that held various crystal bottles filled with dark or sometimes vibrant colours. The Devil meticulously filled three clear glasses and brought them over to each of them. It felt strange to be served by the Devil. Shouldn’t Frank be the one to do this? But Ray wasn’t perturbed. What sort of relationship did he have with the Devil?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil settled himself in his chair and sighed. “Lucifer remains in isolation as he has for centuries. What is there to say of the King of Hell himself? He comes forward when necessary but never a moment more. But it is not Lucifer we dare to discuss this day. No. Whenever an angel Falls, Hell’s occupants will hear of it.” He turned his gaze towards Frank, who at this point hadn’t touched his drink and felt compelled to do so. It was bitter and not at all what he was expecting. He almost choked on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil laughed. “I forgot how stuffy you angels could be, even in a state like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t say he’s an angel,” Ray said, as if protecting Frank from harder scrutiny, but the Devil was unperturbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stretched out to seize Frank’s wrist. His grip was cold and tight, and Frank couldn’t help but realize how small he actually was in the face of a Prince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil drew a finger over the halo tattoo. “Not an angel, no,” he surmised. “But certainly no demon yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he let go, and Frank felt he could breathe, but all he could do was stare directly at the Devil, helpless beneath his empty gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah yes,” the Devil said as his fingers probed around his eye sockets. “A parting gift from the Archangel Uriel. She took my eyes before throwing me out. As if I’d need eyes to lay justice on the lost souls or even know what’s happening in my domain. I am the Law of Hell, Frank. The peace we live with here is based on my word and mine alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could ask a question,” Ray said and the Devil turned his gaze towards him. “Why did you call us here today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, if only to see your new acolyte. One of my favourite consuls taking up the Fallen who saved his life. An interesting turn of events if I do say so myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured he could be useful.” There was none of the warmth in Ray’s tone that he usually held for Frank, and he couldn’t help but think it was calculated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And? Has he shown his </span>
  <em>
    <span>usefulness</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s healing still. Just an angel, a child, to have his Grace ripped out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil hummed. “A child he may be, but no longer. Not here. A perfectly blank canvas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you thinking then, my Lord?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He may be young. He may be small. But I see a use for him. See him to Camio. They will instruct him well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. If that is all you need of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you may go and return to what is yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray smiled and nodded his thanks. He moved to stand and Frank started to follow him until the Devil laid a hand on his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mammon has quite a treasure in her collection. A feather, or so I hear. Special, special indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And like that, Frank was free to leave. He didn’t know if he should bow or not, and rather scampered off to Ray’s side as if he could protect him. From most demons? Yes. From the Devil himself? Suffice to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It is a common conception that demons are obsessed with artifacts of the Heavenly Realm. That they are always yearning for the thing they lost during those dark days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This conception is often wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older cadre of demons—the ones who actually knew what Grace was—often do feel melancholic for those times. Some are plagued with sorrow and grief, something that can be so overpowering and overwhelming that others can’t help but share their grief with them. But others may revel in their Gracelessness, continuously sporting their leathered wings, horns decked out in jewels and rings. They have their own sense of Grace, a freedom they revel in that Frank has come to admire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he can never truly know what that sense of freedom is like, still caught in this in between stage. There are whispers of his wings, which he never bares in public. Of his halo, which he tries to conceal with more ink on his body to draw the attention away from his angelic roots. He is a demon of the Prince of Wrath and that alone usually makes the other demons think twice before approaching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still, he remains wary of those who would try to use his angelic post against him for their gain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his first encounter with the Devil, Frank felt almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>about his circumstances. He was being sent to a demon named Camio. For what, he didn’t know, but as soon as they had returned to Ray’s home, he felt more emboldened to ask questions and learn of this realm than he ever had before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know of Camio?” he asked, following after Ray as he removed the long, formal robes he wore for matters of the Court.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. They’re the captain of the Devil’s guard. They see to the training and the placement of the guards. Very respectable. Definitely a good place to start for training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything I should do beforehand? You know, to prepare myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray set a hand on Frank’s shoulder to keep him in place long enough. He looked amused by Frank’s enthusiasm. “It doesn’t matter, Frank. Do what you think you need to do. You won’t be seeing Camio until tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an opportunity to prove himself. He was feeling good, like he was finally finding a place here in Hell. The Devil himself had given him direction, and that shouldn’t be taken lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t just reading into things?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent time in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection. He felt he needed to make a change, shed more parts of the being he used to be. His hands continuously came up to his hair. He didn’t like the look of it. It served no purpose—never had, but he was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>demon </span>
  </em>
  <span>now. He could change his appearance if he so chose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found a pair of shears and plucked out a lock of hair. He held the blades fairly close to his head and cut through it. It made a satisfying sound and he let the hair drop to the floor. He would clean it later, but for now he wanted to be rid of the length.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept cutting until his hair was a shaggy mess that looked much worse than when he first started, but it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>start </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he wasn’t going to feel regret for something that brought him a little bit of joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was how Ray found him, of course, surrounded by his own mistakes. He laughed at the sight, and Frank felt defensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>something here. Don’t you have some sort of soul to damn for all eternity?” It was the first time he had been snarky with Ray. And it marked a new development in their relationship as somewhat tenuous roommates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. Give me the shears. I’ll neaten it up for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray did do a pretty good job when he finally stepped back. The hair was short and of a uniform length on the sides of his head and at the back. On top the length was left a bit longer so Frank could have something to do with his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I should say thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged and set down the shears. “If you thanked me for everything I’ve done so far, we’d be stuck here until the second coming of Jesus. Take what you can get, Frank.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Frank first met Camio, he was a little intimidated. But his nervous energy made up for it in spades, and Camio was happy to have an enthusiastic pupil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was also the first time Frank would be away from the home and, more importantly, away from Ray. Ray had his own things to do, and if Frank was going to make it here, he had to show what he was made of.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio was a solid mass of a demon. They made Frank feel miniscule in comparison, but he’s always known he was smaller than normal. It was nothing bad. It was not a flaw. But maybe down here he had to reconsider his strengths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio stood tall like most other high ranking demons. They had inked tattoos all down their arms and legs, all solid black that blended in with their dark brown skin. Their hair was long, piled up into a thick bun high on their head. They were dressed for obvious combat training—the majority of their armour being made from aged leather that had been dyed and decorated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What training have you received?” Camio was brief and quick to the point. No time for introductions or niceties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, simple means of protection. I was a messenger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. By simple, I’m guessing you mean not much. And by messenger, I assume you’re a younger angel. Which means you likely haven’t dealt with any major human conflicts or matters between the denizens of Heaven and Hell. Correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, uh, yes—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded. “Yes, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I assume you haven’t received adequate training in combat. We’ll start from the beginning with basic maneuvers and work you up from there. And maybe, in time, you can become a guard of the Court.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no other option. You will learn or you will fail. Let’s get you the proper equipment and we can begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank moved in a rather jilted manner for his first day. He did whatever Camio asked of him, moving as quickly (and as clumsily) as he could to complete the task and show them that he was worth this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beginning stages of his training was about equipment. The proper way to don his armour, whether it be leather, metal, or some other material. How to oil and clean it. How to wear it. And this pattern was repeated with the weapons. Camio said that it would take some time to find a weapon that Frank could hold. A lot of things went into consideration. First, his stature, and then his natural abilities and inclinations. Camio likely said a short sword or a fighting staff might work for him, but it would take time to discover what Frank would be proficient in. Until then, he had his drills. He had his exercises with a variety of weapons all on his own, away from the others, only spoken to be Camio themself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Practice, practice, practice,” Camio would say, critiquing Frank’s form when they told him to move from one stance to the next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their touch was almost comforting in a way. They’d lift Frank’s arm here, kick at his foot to move it there, tap at his back to straighten his posture. Quick and efficient. Nothing lingering. All professional. It was a nice change of pace from Ray’s house, but it didn’t leave him feeling like he was being thrown to the wolves. Yes, the other demons on the training grounds would look at him and whisper. He didn’t quite have the confidence to want to speak to anyone, but they weren’t trying to corner him and force him to bare his wings or show off his halo tattoo. The braces he wore on his forearms did that rather nicely, but it was nice to know he wasn’t seen as some sort of pariah. That he could blend in and live rather secretively here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It broke up his days. It gave him a sense of autonomy back. It made him want to rush out of the house in the early morning to return to the training grounds ahead of schedule so Camio could see how dedicated he was. Often with a reminder from Ray to, “You need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat </span>
  </em>
  <span>something before you leave!” Before he’d grab Frank’s wrist and haul him back into the house to quickly eat before he was allowed to leave again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a lot of work in those early days. Physically demanding, he would simply sleep afterwards until Ray pushed him to eat something and he would sleep again. He received little time to himself, but for once he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He felt like he was needed in some way. That it would make a difference if he were suddenly gone tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes he would fall asleep in the main room of the house, laid out on a couch with an open book on his stomach. He found himself enamoured by Dante’s prose. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Inferno </span>
  </em>
  <span>was especially becoming a fast favourite of his. While it wasn’t a true account of what Hell entailed, it was a story Frank took comfort in. Something he could relate to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray would let him sleep there. And sometimes Frank would wake to find a blanket pulled up over him. Their relationship had changed some. Instead of the healer, Ray became some sort of mentor figure. He answered all of Frank’s questions with patience and understanding. Frank was showing enthusiasm and energy—a stark contrast to the lifeless Fallen he had been prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would Satan need guards? What does he have to fear here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, first of all, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Devil. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And second of all, he’s basically the acting head of all of Hell. There are rules that demons have to follow to keep the peace otherwise it’d be a bloodbath. There’ve been . . . disagreements before. Some think that because he doesn’t have eyes that he’s weak, but he knows where everyone is around him. Having guards is just a formality for him. And of course if we’re ever going to war against Heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea of potentially fighting the hosts of Heaven did scare Frank a little. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever found himself in such a situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think we’re headed for a war?” Frank asked, softer this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged with all the care in the world—which was none. “I wouldn’t be concerned about it. There are no big disagreements between us at the moment. I doubt you’ll see anything between us for a very long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Frank could only hope that Ray was right on that count.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“The short sword seems to be your strongest,” Camio said. “You’re small but you’re quick. It’ll allow you to get in under your opponent’s guard with precision strikes. Shields would only weigh you down, which is why you’ll have this.” They fitted what was lighter than a shield but bulkier than a vambrace to Frank’s arm. It was a bit heavy but nothing near as cumbersome as the shields he’d been required to train with. “It’s meant for you to block. With a backhand you could land a serious blow, but the sword will do most of the damage. So. How does it feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank moved his arm with the new semi shield. He still had full range of his arm with it, but it provided some cover. He was surprised Camio had such confidence in him to wield largely only the sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels good, Captain,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio nodded. “Good. It’ll be yours. Treat it well just as you would any other weapon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d fallen into the routine of cleaning and oiling his weapons and armour after each session with Camio. Slowly, he was being integrated into larger training sessions. Camio didn’t simply match him up with other demons who used the same weapons. In combat, Camio pushed him to engage with others, so he understood the full range of his motions and could see how other weapons were used by those who were proficient in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those sessions were always harder. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be cut and sliced afterwards. Nothing too deep or requiring much attention. Frank’s divine energy was attuning itself to his new alignment. His healing, while a bit slow, could do the job itself without intervention from Ray. It was a sense of pride for him that he could care for himself again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio pressed him hard with his new equipment. They pulled no punches as they pushed Frank against the sandy floors of the training grounds. The semi shield did well to provide him a bit of cover, just enough to glance a blow and duck beneath before swinging his sword in fast and close. He did manage to get a good hit on Camio once—a deep cut to their thigh that came forth with a dark spurt of blood. But Camio was of the old guard. Their wound healed nearly instantly, but the blood soaked into the sand and called to something deep in Frank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first time he landed what could’ve been considered a critical hit against weaker demons, and he found he couldn’t look away from the dark streak as it soaked into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Camio said. “Again. Quicker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart was beating rapidly. It felt as if he was being possessed by something. He was moving quicker than he ever had, anticipating where Camio would strike next and how he should respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He managed to keep the point of his sword up, never once letting his sword clatter out of his hand like it had at the beginning of his training. When Camio realized they were fairly locked into a draw, they called for a break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re much lighter on your feet. Just make sure to keep your balance and watch your footing. Otherwise you’ll be swept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded and paced in a line to catch his breath. “When would I be ready? To enter the Devil’s service, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would mean stability for him. A sense of purpose again like he had in Heaven. He could have a new Lord to serve. A new Lord to sing praises of and look up to from down below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’re a bit far off from that yet,” Camio said, but still Frank pressed forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else can I do to prove myself, Captain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” Camio said as if to gently let Frank down that he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>demon </span>
  </em>
  <span>material yet. That he wouldn’t be able to handle what would be asked of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Camio sighed. “You have drive. You have spirit. What you lack in experience, you make up for in enthusiasm. There is to be a small training tournament between some of my demons and others from the other domains. It’s meant to be civil. Nothing large. Nothing like what Prince Asmodeus holds. But it would be enough to test your mettle. To show that you are serious before I decide to train you for the Devil’s guard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I won’t let you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio smirked, a rare occurrence that Frank couldn’t help but feel enlightened about. “I doubt you could, Frank. Continue to train in the meantime. Tournaments draw experienced fighters. They will not go easy on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, go. Clean your equipment. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded and thanked them one more time before dashing off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told Ray immediately upon arriving home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ray asked. Always cautious. Always slightly on the edge of worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll test my skills,” Frank said. “The Captain thinks I can handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank, not that I don’t think you’re capable of this, but these tournaments aren’t fair fights. They’re not supposed to be. Demons use whatever’s at their disposal. Not just their weapons but the environment. I’ve seen a lot of sand thrown into each other’s eyes. And not just that but fear tactics. Using powers that are innate abilities or quirks from living in one domain for so long. It can be a lot sometimes. Especially for someone who’s not used to this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now. Frank knew Ray had his best interests in mind. He always had (and always will). But Frank couldn’t help but feel this was a dig at his Fallen status. He had horns now. His wings were hidden. No one was looking at him with suspicion. He was just as much a demon as the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Frank said, if only to appease him. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you will be.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>In preparation for the tournament, Frank spent most of his waking hours at the arena. When he wasn’t training with Camio, he was watching the other demons fight. The more experienced ones would have a cruder style of fight than what he was taught, but he sat and watched and learned from them. Tried to understand what Ray meant that demons fought dirty. If a larger group was fighting and it was all one on one, sometimes he would witness a few demons make a pact to take down a more experienced fighter. A mutual agreement that would immediately be broken as soon as the opponent had been disarmed. Then they’d go back to fighting each other. There were no rules for a fight such as this. Other than, last demon standing wins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Camio would pair Frank up with another demon and he could put his skills to the test. It was odd having to read a new opponent rather than coming to expect what he knew of Camio’s movements, but it was a skill he knew he needed. If he was to even win one round at the tournament, he needed to know how to fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, he left with cuts and bruises more often in the days leading up to the tournament, often falling asleep as soon as he returned home. Ray never said he was worried, but he didn’t have to. But this was important to Frank, so he had to sit by the sidelines and watch Frank push himself to the limits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the tournament day arrived. Frank had hardly slept the night before and eagerly left for the arena so he could gear up and move through his exercises to warm himself up. He was gone long before Ray woke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with any of the other demons. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but he was still learning where he fit in best. The others didn’t try to make him feel unwelcome, but he was very dedicated to his craft and they seemed to respect that. But now that they were together, looking for the listings of who’d they first fight with, they welcomed him into their troupe. They may train together, but they were demons of Wrath. If one of them won, it was a win for all of them, and Frank liked that sense of belonging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled him into the stands of the arena, close to the front so they could see the action well and speak to each other about who was the main competition, what strategies they could garner. Frank was surprised they even asked him for his opinion. Not that he had much to say, but it was nice to feel included.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly the arena began to fill. Not a large crowd, but a crowd nonetheless. There was box seating further up that Frank caught the sight of the Devil. At least he thought it was the Devil. He certainly felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>sweep over him. A strange energy. It seemed some of the Princes had come to watch the tournament, and Frank felt all the more determined to make something of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tournament was organized in paired fighting. No groups. Not for something of this size. They’d go pair by pair and each winner and loser would be paired with another opponent until the best of the best were fighting each other. When their names were called—including the domain they were from—the opponents would meet in the middle and fight. Some fights could be explosive and quick sometimes with one opponent starting with a strong force to quickly overpower and overwhelm the other. Other fights were more drawn out. Almost like a dance with how graceful they could be. But it was a range of fighting styles. Sometimes dirty. Sometimes clean. All stunning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first fight was a bit shaky, he’ll admit. Every strike of his sword against another rattled his teeth and sent waves up his arm. But he could see the attacks coming. He could counter, and when he disarmed his opponent, he wasn’t shaking any longer. He sat down among his cadre rather breathlessly and they clapped him on his back, tousled his hair, and tugged at his horns—a common thing among demons. It was a sign of familiarity. Tugging at each other’s horns was a sign of play, of affection. And Frank was positively beaming with the attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t win all of his fights. But he won some of them, and that was something he could take pride in. Hopefully, Camio was watching and seeing what he was capable of. If he could hold his ground against Hell born demons, then certainly he deserved a spot as part of the Devil’s guard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He can’t explain why he was so driven in those early days. Ray once said it was because the nature of Hell was affecting him. That it was skewing his perception of what he knew from Heaven and perverting it into something familiar yet unknown. Even now, he can hardly make sense of the fervor that gripped him so.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it came to his final fight, he was paired with a demon of Envy. Beelzebub’s domain. Frank had never met the Prince before, but from what he’d been learning, Beelzebub had a more familiar relationship with the reclusive Lucifer. And because of that relationship, demons of Envy often felt they had more say and more influence than even the Devil himself. Which led to colourful altercations that Ray often had to address (and still does to this day).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank’s name was called and he stepped onto the arena with a little jog. His energy had been high all day and he knew he would sleep for days after this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then his opponent was named. He caught </span>
  <em>
    <span>something something </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bryar. Taller than him. Broader than him. Sandy blond hair but a dark, hooded gaze. His horns were the colour of ivory and had several points, denoting that he was old. Very old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood at opposite ends of the marked grounds within the arena. Frank looked for any obvious weaknesses. The demon’s weapons of choice were two short swords. He stood there as Frank paced in a short line. It would likely be Frank’s hardest fight. But maybe if he won this fight, Camio would see he was ready for something more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the match was called, Frank was bouncing on his toes. He was ready to sprint forward and begin the attack when the demon, Bryar, revealed his wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped almost instantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryar’s wings were large, bleached like the rest of him, but upon the insides of them were what looked like eyes. Swirling patterns that made Frank halt and feel his lungs freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he knew what Ray was saying about how demons play dirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryar stalked forwards at a slow pace, wings held aloft. “Fall,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Frank fell to his knees. He couldn’t look away from the eyes, the patterns on the wings. They were all boring into him, piercing his skin to seek for his weaknesses. He’d never felt such powerful compulsion before. He didn’t know how to counter a use of this type of magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eyes front.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He focused on Bryar and Bryar only. He couldn’t tell if the crowd was either cheering or jeering, and it started to feel like the crowd didn’t matter outside of this moment between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Fallen, serving the Devil in such a state as yours. Look at you. You can’t even counter compulsion. How does anyone expect you to be anything great? A demon of Wrath.” He could hear the sneer in Bryar’s words. “They should’ve let you die the moment you Fell. Now. Show me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A part of Frank knew what was being asked of him and responded in kind without him being aware of it until it already happened. His wings unfurled behind him. A sickly, sad sight he couldn’t prevent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he hasn’t even burned yet!” Bryar said, more to the crowd than to Frank this time. He stood in front of him now and stooped over to pluck a feather much like Mammon had. A trophy. “If this is truly the best the Prince of Wrath can offer, then Hell is in a sad state.” With the back of his hand, he struck Frank and sent him skidding along the ground. The pain was enough to clear his head of the compulsion and realize what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd sounded louder now. He was aware of his surroundings to an extent, but still felt the pull of Bryar’s compulsion and the trick of his decorated wings. He didn’t know if he could fight his way out of this one. He needed a new trick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but it’s all right,” Bryar said as he moved towards Frank’s prone form. “I’m sure there are other places for you. Places where you can make use of yourself. I know of </span>
  <em>
    <span>many </span>
  </em>
  <span>demons who would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to take your wings as their own. Useless as they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank dug his hand into the sand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Face it, Fallen. You may be quick. You may have your talents. But you are not—augh!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryar stumbled back to clear his eyes from the grit and sand. His wings faltered and so too did the power they hold, allowing Frank to get to his feet and mount an attack. It was the opening he needed to force Bryar into a physical fight—one that he could possibly win. He kept his attacks quick and uncoordinated, often faking out to try and jab at Bryar’s exposed flank. Bryar growled in irritation whenever the edge of Frank’s sword managed to catch a piece of exposed skin. He even managed to cut through the edge of one of his wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it went wrong again, and Frank was exposed to the full might of a demon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryar spread his wings out in full and the eyes all targeted Frank with a now blood red gaze. Frank felt the blood drain from his face. He could’ve sworn he saw Bryar transform into something monstrous, something he couldn’t even recognize. Eyes sunken, face gaunt, teeth sharp, with beady eyes and clawed hands. He brought his arms up over his head on instinct, opening himself up to a direct blow against his midsection. The edge of Bryar’s sword sliced through his armour like a heated knife through fat. He fell on the ground, nearly winded, the wound in his stomach radiating heat upwards through the rest of his body. But he made no move to get up. He curled in on himself tightly to hide from the burning gaze of Bryar’s wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fear. What he was feeling was trust and honest Fear. And he had never wanted to feel anything like it ever again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll admit. You have fight. But you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean nothing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And you will be buried just like the others of your sad constitution.” Just as Bryar lifted one of his swords to bring it down and pierce Frank’s exposed neck, another sword came to meet it. The force of the impact sent Bryar’s sword to the side, and when Frank gathered the courage to open his eyes, he found Ray standing over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough,” Ray said. “This won’t end in death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would protect him?” Bryar asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not affected by your tactics. You’ve won. Now take it and leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank felt it when Bryar finally stepped back. The Fear that took hold of him morphed into exhaustion and shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was nothing. He would never amount to anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it would’ve been better to have been left to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t leave you,” Ray said, and oh. Had Frank said that aloud? “Come on. Let’s get out of here and take a look at your wound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wound on his stomach was fairly severe. It was bleeding sluggishly, and Frank walked in a hunched position, keeping one arm pressed to the cut while he was supported by Ray on his other side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left the arena. It wouldn’t be the most memorable or dramatic event, but the damage had been done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” Camio said. “Perhaps it’s best you rest for now. I’ll call upon you when I believe you are truly ready for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you do this later?” Ray hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He needs to learn how we do things here,” Camio said. “Protecting him from Hell won’t help his case, Ray. Frank, good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And didn’t that feel like rubbing salt into the wound.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>All divine entities have powers—angelic and demonic alike. Healing abilities are common throughout, but the older ones usually have immensely more powers. Archangels are known for their fortitude, their strength and lightning quick reflexes. Virtues have powers of speech and intuition. Not exactly mind reading, but their abilities to pick out hidden details is uncanny. Now while the demons aren’t stratified as such as the angels are in Heaven (they can drift through the different domains as much as they please), living within one domain allows demons to possess supernatural powers. Ray once told Frank of a demon who could call down lightning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“She left though,” Ray said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Left? Where did she go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shrugged. “We’re demons. We can go wherever we want. I heard she was part of Lucifer’s domain since the beginning--used to serve on the Devil’s Council as Lucifer’s representative. But she’s gone now and no one knows where she went.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The powers Frank encountered at his first tournament were that of compulsion. A very powerful force that made any being feel compelled to respond to the orders given. It could make him feel anything, see anything, do anything even if it wasn’t real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Ray’s healing hands, the wound to his stomach was closed, but it was still a serious wound that Frank would need to rest with for a while. Ray took him straight home after the disastrous affair and Frank sulked underneath his blankets. He had hidden his wings once he realized what had happened and now he merely wished to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sleep he did. Not only had the fight exhausted him, but so had the compulsion. He slept for three days straight. Upon waking, the house was silent. He felt much better, much clearer. There was no lingering pain or stiffness. He ran a hand over his stomach where Bryar had cut into him and there wasn’t even a hint of a scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a while, he merely sat up in bed and stared out the nearest window. He had no energy to go anywhere in the house, and he’d rather not face Ray at the moment. It didn’t sound like he was home, but Frank wanted to sulk and wallow in self-pity for a while and reminisce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only had he been defeated thoroughly, he’d been humiliated utterly as well. Shown to the masses as this half-breed </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not a demon but certainly not an angel. Maybe that was why Camio insisted on holding him back. That he wasn’t truly ready to be integrated into the Devil’s ranks. He had never learned how to counter such powerful forces before. There was no need to learn such things in Heaven as it was assumed he would never encounter such beings to wield powers like that. He wasn’t seen as important enough to learn such knowledge, but maybe that was different here. Maybe Camio expected more out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if bidden by Frank simply thinking of them, there was a knock at the front door downstairs. When there was a second knock, Frank sighed and decided to move. He answered the door to find Camio standing there. They weren’t dressed in their usual armour, but more neutral robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Frank,” they said. “Might I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank shrugged and decided he wanted to be snippy today. “Not like it’s my house.” He retreated back inside towards the living room and took residence on his favourite seat, curling his legs up towards his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio moved rather stiffly through the house, but then again they’d always been a hair too formal to truly relax. They stood rather than choosing to sit, and Frank didn’t feel it was his place to convince them to sit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see that you’re up,” Camio started. “Compulsion like that is hard to walk away from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “Are you here to tell me not to bother coming back? I remember something to that effect before leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio sighed and looked briefly to the floor. “It was my attempt at urging you to rest. I know you, Frank. I know how badly to prove yourself and given half the chance, I know you would’ve tried to go back out there and challenge Bryar to a rematch.” Well, they weren’t wrong about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I could’ve waited to tell you. And say it more gently than I did before. But my decision still stands. I think it’d be best if you took some time away from training from the guard. For now. This is not permanent. But you need to know what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what I want,” Frank asserted rather forcefully. He didn’t want people speaking for him any longer. He had his own mind. He had his own will. Why couldn’t they believe him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what you think you want,” Camio said. “This has nothing to do with how you handled yourself in your last fight. I should’ve drilled you on negating powerful attacks such as that, but I had assumed you would’ve known. This time apart might even allow you to take some time to yourself, away from the crowds for a while.” They withdrew from one of their sleeves a single feather. The feather that had been plucked from Frank during the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you have this?” Frank asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because Bryar had humiliated you and brandished the feather as a trophy. I couldn’t stand by as he did so as I’m sure he would only use it against you should you encounter him again. I should’ve instructed you further on matters such as this, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Demons don’t play fair. So I’ve been told. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed to join in something I wasn’t ready for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, it wouldn’t be you if you hadn’t. It was a learning experience. One I hope you can be proud of for the things you did achieve. Please, don’t make yourself a stranger around the arena. When you feel you are ready, you will be welcomed back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling rather sheepish at his previous behaviour, Frank looked at Camio directly and thanked them. Camio was quick to depart afterwards and Frank was left alone in the house with a feather. Eventually, he took it upstairs with him and found an empty wooden box in his room he could place it in. He then pushed the box far underneath his bed and crawled back under the sheets to sleep again.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He was melancholic again. There was little reason for him to get out of bed, so he existed as a shadow in Ray’s house once more, and Ray let him. He didn’t try to push him to talk until he was ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he dragged himself from his bed and downstairs in search of food. He burrowed himself on the couch in the living quarters soon after and this was where Ray would come to join him. Ray was busy reading. Frank picked at the threads of the blanket over his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you step in to save me?” he asked, because he was curious as to why he stepped in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why wouldn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like we’re even at this point. The life debt has been paid. You didn’t have to step in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank.” Ray set his book aside, and Frank knew he was in for a serious talk. “I stepped in because you’re my friend. I don’t know if you know this, but demons can be friends. There doesn’t have to be some sort of ulterior reason for me to do something. We’re not . . . I’m not like that. And I thought you’d see that by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitter tone Ray had didn’t make Frank feel any better about this. Ray was continuously extending an olive branch towards him and Frank would (apparently) rather drown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had friends in Heaven,” Frank said because he felt he needed to start from the beginning. “But, I don’t know, it felt different. Like we had friends, but we weren’t, weren’t beholden to each other? If that makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does. You always had God there. He was first in your life and here it isn’t like that. You can be what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I knew what I wanted. I had the training. Camio saw something in me. The Devil himself put me there. I should’ve been able to show that I’m ready for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you wanted to train because you just wanted someone else to serve again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank repositioned his legs, folding them in a bit as he shifted the blanket over his lap. He couldn’t deny that </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>that thought had crossed his mind. He needed direction. Who better to provide that than the Devil? One of the most recognizable and respected figures in all of Hell?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to feel normal,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s a bit hard in a place like this. But even if you can’t fight, there are plenty more things for you to do. Take the time to explore. There’s no rush, no pressure on you to perform.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe that was the crux of it. He was an angel. He was perfection. But he had a flaw and now he was here. He wasn’t just another angel among the choir. He was a demon with his own drives and desires that he could follow. He could fail spectacularly and still forge onward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I also did want to say something to you,” Ray said and Frank sat up a bit because he sounded serious. “I just didn’t know how, but, uh, they’re sending me up there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting sent to Earth. I have to handle some things up there that have gotten a bit . . . loud and I need to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. And how long will you be gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say. It could be days. Could be weeks. It’s not dangerous work, but it depends on how messy the situation is, and they’re sending me up to take a look at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t imagine Ray leaving him for an extended period of time. Especially one where he was unsure of when he’d return. Most demons seemed to respect Ray’s private property, so Frank didn’t think he’d have to worry about people breaking in. But what would he do without Ray here? Would he even bother getting up and staying active?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not ideal, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. Really. I understand what you have to do. I’ll, I’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ray knew as well as Frank that he couldn’t lie to save his life.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Ray would be gone in two days and Frank would spend the rest of the week isolated, continuously looking over Ray’s extensive book collection and allowing himself to get lost in the words of mortals. But he wouldn’t remain isolated for long. Word must’ve gotten around that Ray was not in Hell, so Prince Mammon had dispatched a messenger to collect Frank from the house and bring him to her domain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a visit,” the messenger had said. “She would like to speak with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So seeing as he felt he didn’t have a choice, Frank left with the messenger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The domain of Greed was different from Wrath. It was crawling with towers and spires, all seemingly filled to the brim. Markets and stalls littered the streets as demons haggled over demonic and human items. Even Frank felt compelled to lose himself in the mindlessness of it all, but the messenger kept him on the straight and narrow until they came upon Mammon’s palace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was different from the Devil’s Court. Mammon’s palace was all gold and silver, glittering with its smooth domes and colourful mosaics upon the floor. Fine tapestries hung upon the walls along with shining suits of armour lining the halls. It was so ostentatious, so spectacular that Frank felt he could look at this all day and lose himself within the palace. And that was probably the purpose of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was taken into the center of the palace and shown through a set of heavy, gilded doors. “Prince Mammon will be within the central chambers. I will see you here when you are done.” And then he was alone to wander through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Frank,” came Mammon’s voice and he stepped forward to follow it. “I was wondering when you would arrive. Are you hungry at all? Thirsty? I have some splendid tea blends from the Qing Dynasty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you so choose, Prince Mammon.” He heard her laugh, soft and high like she was amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too sweet. Come. Come here and let me see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rounded the corner to the haphazardly decorated chambers of Mammon. Much like the Devil’s rooms, it was filled with knick knacks of many human cultures and time periods, but it felt as if everything was on purposeful display rather than a few collected items.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit,” Mammon said as she poured two cups of tea into delicate and poised cups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank found a spot that wasn’t cluttered and remained seated until Mammon approached—her robes flowing around her like they weighed nothing—with a cup of tea for him and her. She sat across him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re looking better,” she said. “I caught wind of your fight. Belphegor had much to say about it when she went. A very exciting end to your last fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank focused on the ornate rug beneath his feet. “Wasn’t my best fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. The Envious ones have always been known to fight like that. Whatever it takes, especially against an opponent that is, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>special.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never encountered power like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be surprised. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>just an angel, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way she emphasized his past came off as odd, but he replied affirmatively. “Yes. A messenger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You held your own. I would say that is impressive for a demon of your build and skill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell what Mammon was looking for today. Did she really just want to speak with him? Share some tea and speak to him without Ray running interference?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a sip from his tea, cooler now, but it was sweet with a hint of spice underneath it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what will you do now?” she pressed. “Have you found something that truly speaks to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let himself get lost in the pattern of the carpet. He wanted to press his hands to it, feel the threads. He wanted to get lost in the colours. He wanted to crawl against the ground and find all of Mammon’s hidden trinkets. It was a similar feeling he had when he was first acquainting himself to Ray’s home—wanting to fiddle and to feel and to wrap himself in the luxury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem a bit lost, Frank,” Mammon said, her voice honeyed and sweet like she wanted him to stay here. “What’s catching your fancy? I doubt they have such fine things up in Heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said, tongue feeling heavy and slow. “We aren’t allowed to have such things. No use in it.” He brought his gaze up and he became fixated on the stained-glass ornaments hanging in the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always found that to be a silly stipulation,” Mammon said, reclining on her settee with her legs on the cushions and one arm above her head with the other resting on her stomach. “Humans make such fascinating things. God given talents and skills. Shouldn’t we celebrate that? Revel in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was silly, wasn’t it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have so many rare treats,” she continued. “So many things humans have promised to me for just a bit more. More time. More love. More wealth. Well. Who am I to deny them when they have such beautiful things to trade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I suppose that would be . . . something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shadow emerged to cover the light from the windows and the stained glass, and Frank felt his attention pulled to the figure in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mammon was now standing in her full glory, her wings outstretched. The skin of which was a beautiful rich, dark brown but within it they were painted—no—tattooed of different scenes proclaiming her glory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Frank?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up to her eyes, now a burning gold.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sleep.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Frank has tried to redeem the conception of demons time and time again if only to make himself feel better about his circumstances. But over the centuries he’s come to learn that every single one of them is self serving. Even Ray is self serving to an extent. He does what he does if only to protect what he has. His privacy. His credibility. His respect among the echelons of demons. Frank doesn’t want to know what Ray did to earn all of this, and he doesn’t think it’s his place to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the takeaway is, demons are self-serving and nothing (well, almost nothing) is done out of altruism—especially when it comes to the Princes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unconscious upon one of Mammon’s couches, Frank was deep in sleep. He didn’t think anything could wake him except for pain, pain on his wrist. More specifically around his halo tattoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It alerted him with the sudden clarity of ice. It froze in his veins and stalled his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mammon was kneeling next to his prone form with a thin, sharp knife held to his wrist. She was meaning to skin him to rip off his tattoo as a prize.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He tore his hand from her grip and quickly pushed up along the couch only to fall off the edge and keep pushing himself to get away from her. The cut on his wrist wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding and he left a trail along the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mammon stood, smiling at him with teeth like one would at a peculiar creature that didn’t fully grasp their place in the world. “Where are you going, Frank? I thought you liked it here. Wouldn’t you like to stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bumped up against a wall and managed to get himself to his feet. He realized now he had nothing at his disposal to protect himself. But it wasn’t like he’d be able to fight against a Prince of all people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, I want to leave. I should go,” he said, heart thumping rapidly against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, but why? Why return to Wrath when you can live with all this?” She gestured at her chambers and it was like the light caught on every surface it possibly could. He almost fell for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>If not for the startling clarity the pain in his wrist offered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not take this from me,” he said. He’d been pushed too far already. When everyone was out for his wings, his feathers. He would not have this piece ripped from him. Prince or not, he wouldn’t give.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “And who are you to say what I can and cannot take? The last angel who told me I couldn’t lost his wings. Would you like to know where I put them?” She pointed up above and back towards the wall, and there Frank saw the impeccable angel’s wings nailed to the wall in a glorious display of Heaven’s gifts. “And wouldn’t an angel’s halo be fitting to the collection?” She stepped forward and extended a hand. “Please, Frank. Let me take this burden from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a burden, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just as her hand caressed his face, he jerked back. “No! I will not,” he growled and it was like his vision was turning red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now stop it,” Mammon spat out. “I will take what I desire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed in close enough to garner a reaction from him. He slashed out with one hand, nails, digging into the skin of her cheek. She threw him to the floor after, and he quickly got to his feet, slightly crouched to keep his balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a feisty, spiteful thing you are,” she said, her former warmth now faded into something heavy and brick like. “I could give you </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If only you give me this one, small thing. Wouldn’t you rather live here? In paradise rather than fighting for a scrap of dignity? Satan will give you </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never wanted this! I never wanted any of this! And I will never give you this. You have no right!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen well, Frank. You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>power here. If you ever expect to </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrive, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you will have to compromise. I’m just offering you the path of least resistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t. And nothing you can give me will make me think otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that is the case, then I think you should leave. And if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>set foot in my domain again, I will pluck every single feather you hold so dear from those wretched things you call your wings. I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>rip </span>
  </em>
  <span>every inch of Grace from you until you are exposed as the mistake you are.” She waved her hand and Frank felt himself tumbling back through a wall—</span>
  <em>
    <span>a portal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He landed in the dirt, scorched beneath Hell’s sun. He took in his surroundings. He had no idea where he was. He could be on Earth for all he knew, but he doubted that was the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got to his feet and had no choice but to walk somewhere familiar. The blood was drying on his wrist now, just another reminder of the cruelty of this place. Everyone had ulterior motives. Everyone was selfish and full of hate. He felt something bubble up in his chest, something ugly and exhausting—all the grief he hadn’t let himself feel since he Fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wouldn’t it be pathetic now for him to fall to his knees and beg for the Father to forgive him? To ask for a second chance, a sign, anything that he was doomed here for all eternity?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray wasn’t here to console him and tell him he wasn’t a mistake, to build him back  up. Maybe it was a fitting punishment for him. Maybe he should wallow in the heat. Burn away until there was nothing left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few stuttering breaths, tears hot in his eyes, he calmed himself. Breathed deeply and held it before releasing it slowly—a technique he learned from Camio when his adrenaline was getting the better of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could do this. There was something inside of him that wanted to live. Something wanted to live in spite of everything he had put through. If he wasn’t meant to be, then why was he still standing here? What role did he have to play? If no one expected anything out of him, then he could do as he pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t proficient with magic or powers. He’d been too young to truly learn the extent of him and as an angel in the lowest hierarchy, nothing much had been expected of him. He had no idea where he was or how to get home. It wasn’t as if he could conjure a portal, so he picked a direction and began to walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood on his wrist dried and the cut scabbed over. The skin of the tattoo felt hot when he traced over it, like it was trying to burn itself back onto his body again. Did a Prince have the power to rip the Grace out of an angel? If Mammon took an angel’s wings, what would she have done with his halo?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun beat down upon him, making his skin drip with sweat. The rocky terrain he walked upon caused him to trip more than once. There was seemingly nothing around him for miles except for a few stunted shrubs and the skeletons of former trees. Would he die out here? Could he die here in Hell? What would become of him? A few times faint shadows passed overhead and he could only assume they would be harpies--some sort of demonic vulture come to pick the flesh from his bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the heat had exhausted him, when the sweat stung his eyes from where it clung to his lashes, he found one of those long dead trees to rest against. How could he possibly do this? Without Ray, he had nothing, no one to reach out to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was (truly) alone. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He had long resigned himself to the wasteland he was in before a saving grace came his way. Hunched in on himself with his knees up against his chest, he was drawn out of his misery with a hand on his shoulder. He jolted, raising his hands to defend himself, but then the demon pulled back, hands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, it’s okay. Didn’t mean to spook ya. Just decided to check in. You look a bit rough around the edges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realized it was still light outside. Did this part of Hell never see the dark? Was this a punishment for the souls that found themselves here?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up a bit shakily, leaning on the tree for balance. The other demon caught him when he fell, and Frank allowed himself to have that moment of support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he said, taking in the sight of his benefactor for the first time. Nothing remarkable, nothing identifiable. Blond hair and blue eyes. It was hard to get a true look at him, what with the blazing light and heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem a bit lost,” the demon said. “Need help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank liked his parched lips and cleared his throat, uttering a rasp, “Um, yeah. I’m trying to get to the domain of Wrath. I . . . I decided to walk around a bit and realized I got myself all twisted up.” A good lie, he thought. He could pass as a newborn demon couldn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could take you there,” the demon offered. “It’s a short flight, and I’m not without wings.” The demon unfurled his wings behind his back, a very pale grey that they were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise. I won’t drop you. I know what it’s like to get lost out here in the wastes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Faced with living out here until Ray returned, Frank decided to trust the demon. He gave a weak nod. The demon smiled, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “All right. Here we go.” He hooked his arms around Frank’s waist and Frank had to hang onto his shoulders as the demon lifted the both of them into the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a short flight to the wooded area near Ray’s house which was where the demon set the both of them down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There we are,” he said. “Will you be good on your own here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The time spent in the air made Frank feel incredibly sad again if only because he knew he’d never be able to fly again. Not until his wings decided to behave and transform so he wouldn’t be stuck in this halfway state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ll be fine. Thanks. I, I know the way from here.” He stepped away from the demon and folded his arms over his chest. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all good. Just take care of yourself,” the demon said before tipping his head in Frank’s direction and setting off down the path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank made it home in one piece and thought no more of the demon he met in the wastelands.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He hid in Ray’s house for a long time before Frank was ready to face Hell again. No one had come to the house since, so hopefully Mammon decided he wasn’t worth the time to go chasing through all the way into the domain of Wrath. It hadn’t stopped her before, but Frank doubted the Devil would like another Prince traipsing through his domain so often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bored and feeling trapped, he decided to leave the house once he was sure he was steady on his feet. He left for the arena because he had no reason to be anywhere else and it was the only other place that felt familiar. Plus, besides Ray, Camio was the only other demon that had been kind and reasonable towards Frank. So he took a book with him and found a spot among the arena seats, further up than he would normally so it wouldn’t seem like he was imposing. He needed a change of scenery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice to be here again, watching the others train and fight and scuffle, tug at each other’s horns affectionately. How could he leave this? Would he be welcomed into any of the other domains like he was here? The Devil hardly called upon him, and he didn’t have some sort of interest in him. Not like Mammon had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat and read and enjoyed his tranquility. During a break, Camio came up to visit him. They sat down beside him, and Frank closed his book.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank, it’s been some time,” they said. “How have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” he said, sparing a glance towards them. He didn’t think he should say anything about his time with Mammon. “Thought I’d visit today for a while. Ray is on Earth and there’s not much to do at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio nodded. “Well, it’s nice to see you here. Just because I am not actively training you doesn’t mean you still can’t use the facilities here. We have a library here, study rooms, and altars if that is your inclination. You have a place here among us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank took comfort in the words. He did feel like he had a home here at one time. He was just starting to become acquainted with the others and that had been ripped away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve a place of your own, Frank. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He idly wondered if Camio knew more than what they were saying. He knew of cognitive abilities among demons and angels alike. To be able to speak to each other through mental connections, and maybe Camio was picking up more from Frank than he was intentionally letting on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he could dwell further, a demon—a young one from the looks of it—raced out onto the arena floor. “Captain!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio straightened. “Yes? What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon gave a little bow before speaking. “The Devil wishes to speak with you.” And then the demon’s eyes slid over to Frank for a split moment. “And the Fallen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” Camio said curtly. “His name is Frank. Do not forget it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon shuddered and bowed again. “Yes, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio sighed and stood slowly. “Well, let’s see what he wants, shall we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank tucked his book underneath one arm and followed Camio down onto the arena to head towards the exit, but before they did, Camio set a hand on the demon’s shoulder. “If I hear a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whisper </span>
  </em>
  <span>of a Fallen, I’ll have your horns made into the hilts of my swords. Understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon nodded shakily and they passed by. Frank kept quiet the entire walk to the Court. Should he be comforted by Camio’s fierce protection or would it come with a cost like everything else did in this world?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil’s rooms had changed little since he was last here, but the coiling anxiety in his gut returned as he sat in the presence of the Devil. Camio was more relaxed, but they had earned that posture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve spoken of this before, dear Captain,” the Devil said, “about halting Frank’s training until he shows he’s more apt in combating against powered attacks, but I was wondering if he might be useful as a messenger. I’m in need of another personal courier after the last one fell to Asmodeus’s advances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you needed me here for this?” Camio asked. “You couldn’t have asked Frank for yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And put the dear boy on the spot?” The Devil laughed. “I am cruel and blind, but in the face of his silence and what Mammon has put him through I decided a friendly face to accompany him might make him more aggregable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank ran his fingers down the paper edges of his book. He didn’t like that the Devil knew of the events that had transpired with Mammon. It felt like he had no privacy here. No way to truly escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A messenger,” Camio said. “To go to the other domains. If you know what happened between him and Mammon, you realize you could be killing him. Find someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil laughed again at Camio’s curt tone. They sounded like old friends. “No, no, not at all. I wouldn’t do that to him. He’s too . . . peculiar for being just an errand boy. No. I have it in mind to send him to old Lucifer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio was silent, and the only sound in the room was the heavy sigh of the hellhound Bruno at the Devil’s feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what of Prince Lucifer?” Camio asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has been centuries since he has been out,” the Devil said. “I want to send more personal messages to him, to coax him out and bring him into the world. I figured a familiar face might encourage him to actually respond, and who better than to send Frank? Hell’s latest addition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio looked to Frank, and Frank straightened his posture. He wanted to show he was worthy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And maybe this was another way he could prove he belonged here just as everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the condition I go with him at first,” Camio said. “I won’t allow him to be thrown to the wolves. He shows promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil nodded his head in assent. “Very well, Captain. You may have your wish. I’ll have a message to send tomorrow and I will see you both then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank didn’t say anything until they were well out of earshot of the Devil’s chambers. “Why did you do that for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Protected me? Spoke for me? I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I don’t like it when my apprentices are used as pawns for squabbles among the Princes. And I guess I don’t want you to experience the things I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank looked to Camio but couldn’t read anything upon their face. They were closed off as they always were. “Can I ask a question, Captain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your tattoos. Where did you get them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s an artist at the arena. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I want one of my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the demons weren’t going to see him as a demon, then he’d give them something to talk about. He was done being the pawn. He was done trying to fit in and play nice. He would let his true colours shine and dare anyone to say anything about him if they weren’t prepared for the consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s get you some ink,” Camio said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They returned to the arena and Frank had an idea of what he wanted. He presented his arm to the artist and pointed to the space running below his halo to his elbow. “I want the Flaming Sword of Camael.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The artist looked shocked and standing to the side of Frank, Camio smirked. “If you say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank sat down and laid his arm on the worktable. The artist got to work at inking in the intricate sword, an image most demons would recognize and resent. The process didn’t take that long, but when it was finished, Frank was left with the Flaming Sword—a longsword with a long hilt, the silver blade from which red and orange flames licked at. It was exactly what he wanted, and it gave him a sense of comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are full of surprises, Frank,” Camio said when it was finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his book pinned under one arm, Frank looked at the tattoo on his walk home. Maybe he would regret this in one of his lower moods, but until then, it was a source of pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was halfway home when a voice made its presence known loud and clear in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Frank!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stumbled and whirled around. There was no one here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Frank, let me in!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was oddly coming from within his head, like the person was speaking right next to his ear. It took some time before he figured out how to use his ‘inner’ voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hello?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Frank! It’s Ray. I’m home. Where are you?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Coming back from the arena. I’ll be home soon.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That’s a relief. I was worried. You weren’t here.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s okay. I’ll see you soon.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it felt like the ‘voice’ had left—or the presence did at least. But he picked up the pace, quicker this time to get home to Ray. He’d been gone so long, and Frank sorely missed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray was in the doorway when he arrived. Frank ran down the pathway to jump into his open arms because he could and because Ray was the only one he could get away with being affectionate like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you been up to?” Ray said and instantly his eyes went to the colours on Frank’s arm. “You didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Frank said with a tone of pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray rolled his eyes but it was done fondly. “I’m gone for a few weeks and you decide to get some religious symbols on your body. Amazing. Come on. I’m starving. Let’s sit and eat and we can catch up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice to be back together with Ray, and Frank settled in to the stories he had to share. His mission had been to go after a rogue demon who had decided that they wouldn’t manage their crossroads effectively and had decided to keep the human souls they reaped for themselves. An act of utter and pure selfishness that the Council of Hell didn’t approve of. So Ray had been sent up to hunt the demon down, send them to Hell and re-establish order to the crossroads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’ll happen to that demon?” Frank asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll probably be put on trial,” Ray said. “It happens sometimes. Someone steps out of line and an example needs to be made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” A heavy weight settled in Frank’s stomach and he no longer felt hungry, but he picked at his food if only because he knew Ray would encourage him to eat more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’ll be a while off yet,” Ray said. “Oh! I brought some things with me from Earth. I think you’ll like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray hurried off to the side of the room and first produced some new books that Frank was interested in immediately. He ran his fingers down the spines. But Ray wasn’t done. He produced something else. An instrument of sorts. Like a lute, but with a wider body and six strings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always liked the lute,” Ray said, setting the instrument on his lap with one hand on the neck of it and the other hovering at the base of the strings. “And I’ve been watching the humans as they’ve been fine tuning it, and now they have this. A guitar.” He ran his thumb down the strings, plucking each of them in turn and Frank’s ears perked up at the sound. “For a while I watched some humans as they played. You press your fingers down on the strings at the neck and that changes the note of it. Lower down on the neck and they produce a higher sound. Higher up and it’s a lower sound. Like this.” Ray demonstrated how it was done and Frank shuffled forward to listen to him play a few notes. Nothing within a discernible pattern other than a scale, but it was a start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always liked their music,” Ray went on to say. “It’s such an interesting expression of everything they’re feeling. Different from paintings and sculptures, books and poems, food even. That they go out of their way to appease their sense of hearing and feeling. That the vibrations out of these things help them convey what they’re feeling. It’s incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Frank said softly. “It is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray brought up his head and asked, “Would you like to try?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? No, Ray, I couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. Give it a go. Here I’ll show you how to hold it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank sat beside him on the couch and held the guitar delicately. Ray instructed him slowly on how to his fingers upon the neck of it and how to move his fingers along the strings to produce the sounds. It made the tips of his fingers sting afterwards, but it was a good sting. A good sensation like the callouses from his sword fighting had left him with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I’d like to just live on Earth for a while you know?” Ray said. He was outstretched on the couch now while Frank was on the floor, turned on his stomach with his arms folded beneath his head. “Some demons have. Gone completely off the map and dedicated their lives to living secretly. Not even the Princes could find them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank hummed. “I’d like to see Earth some day. I never really have. Except for the Garden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d love it. I think you’d feel right at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank quietly agreed.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So you’re going to see Lucifer,” Ray said the next morning as Frank prepared to depart. “For the Devil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. That’s about it. Camio is going with me. They wanted to. The Devil wants me to be his messenger. But only for Lucifer. Apparently the other Princes are too interested in me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray frowned. “That can’t be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank shrugged. He hadn’t told Ray about his altercation with Mammon and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want Ray to worry on his behalf. He had enough on his hands as is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fine,” Frank asserted. “Camio vouches for me and I’m only delivering messages. It shouldn’t be too bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re sure. Don’t be afraid to use the link between us. It’s there for a reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded. He was beginning to get used to the new connection between him and Ray. A sign of their budding familiarity between the two of them now. It comforted him knowing Ray was simply a call away. He needed someone like that in his life and at this point he was sure Ray wasn’t being kind to him for his own gain. He had proven that time and time again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank met with Camio outside of the Court. They went in to pick up the letter the Devil had written and sealed with red wax to be delivered to Lucifer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seeing as you can’t fly, we’ll have to take the mounts,” Camio said once they were on their way. “It’ll be quicker this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By mounts, they meant demonic horse-like figures. Hooves with three toes and sharp nails, bodies so thin they looked like they would break. Teeth so sharp and mouths like maws that Frank was sure they’d have no problem in eating him. But with a boost, he was on its back and saddle and clutched the reins in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Camio said. “They’re rather gentle on the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a while for Frank to finally settle in for the ride. Camio led him upon the trail to the central crossroads for Hell, bisecting every direction to every domain. They headed for the path of Pride. The further they rode, the more Frank took notice of the changing landscape. While Hell was a hot desert most days, heading further into the domain of Pride left him feeling cold. There was less life out here, and the sun felt less potent. He shivered every time there was a gust of wind. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Dante’s descent into the ninth ring of Hell as he experienced it. Gone was the flame and in its place was nothing but ice and darkness. He also noticed there were fewer demons about, and the few figures he did catch sight of were so jutted and jarring that he could hardly recognize them as such.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prince Lucifer has been quiet for some time,” Camio said. “He fought a lot in the early days of Hell. His presence alone commanded silence. But then one day his appearances became fewer and fewer until he stopped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did he do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one rightly knows. Demons of Pride are so wrapped up in themselves that it’s hard to get a definitive answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued to ride on as it became darker and colder. Then they came upon the Tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Tower of Babel? Nearly. It’s the inspiration for Babel. This was the first monument in all of Hell. And Lucifer’s household.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They came to the steps leading up to the doors of the Tower. Frank dismounted with some help from Camio. He craned his neck upwards and found he couldn’t see the top of the Tower. They climbed the steps upwards to the doors where a single guard came out and stood before them. A demon of some kind, but nothing Frank had ever seen before. It’s armour was rusted, the helmet shaped like that of an animal’s skull and its wings—they were only bone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is your purpose?” the demon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio was silent, and Frank knew he needed to speak for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a message for Prince Lucifer,” he said with only a minor tremor. “It’s from the Devil.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon retracted its wings and it allowed Frank to pass, but Camio didn’t leave with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll meet you here. This is your task.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded and passed back to enter the gigantic doors of the Tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once inside, he was met with silence. He could hear the wind blowing through the Tower and it felt empty. He had no directions, no inkling as to where he needed to go. But then it was like a magnetic force that he felt pull him towards the beginning of the central, grand staircase. The force did not lead him towards the stairs to ascend them but back around them where there was a simple doorway set in the back of them. That doorway led him to a narrow staircase that would take him down into the bottom of the tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He descended the stairs in the dark and tried not to panic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer Morningstar was a figure of myth and legend up in Heaven. Spoken with derision and caution. The first angel to defy God and be cast out for his selfish and prideful thoughts. To even speak about him outside of classes and designated learning sessions would give any angel a stern look. And now Frank was on his way to meet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw a faint light up ahead. He pushed forward, and ignored the damp feeling in these chambers, the faint hisses that came from either side of him. He didn’t want to know what this place was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light grew ever brighter and Frank followed it into a brightly lit chamber. Furs covered almost all of the floor. Animal skulls had been mounted upon the walls, but other than that, the place was bare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the roaring fire was what Frank could only surmise was an animal of some sorts. Not a hellhound, but something Frank only vaguely recognized. A demogorgon. A denizen of Hell that could stand on its hind legs, wicked claws, sharp teeth, and a head that was largely just a skull. It noticed Frank on sight and began to stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, Lucille?” a soft voice came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank didn’t know if he should get on his knees before the Morningstar. So he settled on stooping to one knee at the very least as the demogorgon stretched up. He kept his gaze at the floor as the hot breath of the beast ghosted his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” the voice said. “A visitor. How lovely. You may stand. I have no time for that formal nonsense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Frank did and he raised his face to see Lucifer in the flesh. He was rather ordinary in comparison to the other Princes. His horns were thin but with a wicked curve, back high over his head. But they weren’t polished like Frank had come to expect. They were dull and scratched. He was dressed in furs and not stately robes. His hair was shorn, chopped in patches for an uneven length. His nails were chipped and broken and he wore no jewelry. This was not what he had expected from the demon that had defied God and nearly won. But it wasn’t Frank’s place to make comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you come for, demon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank brandished the letter. “A letter for you, Sire. From the Devil, Prince Satan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer scoffed and padded forward to take the letter. He broke the seal and quickly read over the parchment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s to be a trial,” Lucifer said aloud, one hand to come and rest on Lucille’s head. “A crossroad demon guilty of the crime of Excessive Pride. Oh. Should be a good one.” Then he crumpled up the letter and tossed it into the flame. Frank could feel Lucifer’s gaze settle on him. “You are a curious thing, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer smirked. “I know all. I see all. Just because they think I’m a recluse doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s happening in my kingdom. You are Fallen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank swallowed. “Yes, Sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have had Fallen before but not like you. Interesting that Satan would send you to me. I wonder what he’d hope I’d do to you. Does he think you’re guilty of Pride? That because you’ve held onto the remnants of your tattered Grace that I would be offended by you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t know, Sire. I know little about this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Fair. Did you know demons could be found guilty of Pride?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just as angels can be cast out for Doubt, demons can be found guilty of Pride. It’s why Satan is summoning me to his court. If demons get above themselves and start acting selfishly, they are guilty of Pride. But not my Pride. Pride of the self. Of thinking you are above what we have here. This perversion of the order of Heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank was silent, but he hung on every word Lucifer had to say. He could hear in his tone. The careful and measured speech and could see why so many angels turned to serve him in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t be fighting among ourselves,” Lucifer continued. “Which is why when it is required of us, we must set examples of those who think themselves above Hell’s order—</span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>order. Would you like to see the results?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it pleases you, Sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer laughed. “I can see why Satan sent you to me. You’re amusing.” Lucifer gestured behind Frank to the doorway he had just come through. Frank turned and stepped forward until he was just past it. Lucifer waved his hand and a burst of light came forward from the action. It spread to all corners of the chamber and Frank could now see what had been making that hissing sound. Cages lined either side of the chambers. Within each of them, cowering from the bright light were the twisted and confused forms of what had to be demons. Demons trapped and enclosed, cowering and hissing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Few demons are truly Prideful,” Lucifer said. “It was decided eons ago what would happen to those who defied Hell’s order. If they wished to know what Pride was, well, then they could sit here and wallow in it with me. Forever knowing you are great but trapped within it. Never being able to show for it. Or have people believe in it. In you.” He set a hand on Frank’s shoulder and Frank was shocked by the cold touch. It seeped into him, through his clothes and into his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the light was extinguished and Frank was herded back into the chambers. Lucifer’s hand left him, but the cold did not. It seemed to settle in his chest, and he tried not to shiver before the Morningstar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it is time I show myself,” Lucifer mused. “If the masses are getting restless, then they should know who they serve in the end.” He walked to the fireplace and retrieved a parchment of paper and a piece of charcoal. Frank couldn’t imagine it was a finely crafted letter, not like the Devil’s had been, but it was pressed into Frank’s hand regardless with the instructions of delivering his answer to the Devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your presence makes me wonder what you are truly guilty of,” Lucifer said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank swallowed his fear and responded. “You and me both. Sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Stay stubborn, Frank. For one day you will receive the answers you crave. But give an inch and I will be there the moment you fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demogorgon settled back onto the furs before the fire, and Lucifer reclined upon her massive form, and Frank was officially dismissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed by quickly the cages he knew were hidden in the dark and took the stairs two steps at a time to leave the Tower and join up with Camio. He didn’t know what Lucifer’s words truly meant (not at that point anyway, but they would become clearer in time). But it did leave Frank with one answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t a demon. And because of that, everyone would always want something out of him. Well. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>‘Ray? Are you awake?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was late at night. Frank couldn’t sleep except for sporadic moments, but they were filled with images of burning wings, tumbling from great heights and never landing, trying to dig out of a grave with hands pulling him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Ray stir on the other end of the bond, a slight static going through his head as a sleepy affirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What is a trial for a demon like?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Why are you asking?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I think the Devil might want me there.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Well, usually the court is packed and the other Princes are obligated to attend. They’ll go over the facts of the case. The demon will be allowed to defend themselves. And after that the Council decides on a verdict.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Do they usually end up guilty?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was all Frank needed to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Should I be worried?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘About what, Frank?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Because of what I am. I feel like they might want to lock me up. Put me away until I’m more like everyone else.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What’s bringing this on?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Saw Lucifer. Saw the cages.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh, Frank.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Would you have told me?’ He didn’t mean for the words to be harsher than how they turned out to be, but Frank was feeling on edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I know I haven’t been the best at explaining everything to you. I want to say I was protecting you from it all, but maybe I should’ve been more up front about how this place works. When a demon does something bad, it’s not like we can cast them out. We’re stuck with them so there are few methods of what we can do.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made sense. But it didn’t make Frank feel any easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Thanks for telling me. Sorry I woke you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’ll always be here for you.’</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Frank’s second tattoo was a crown of thorns around the base of his neck. The thorns were long and sharp and some dripped blood. Ray gave him an odd look when he returned with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Going Biblical on us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People already expect it out of me. At least I can make it look cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found he had trouble sleeping since his first visit to Prince Lucifer. The cold feeling in his chest had persisted since and he found himself shivering more often than before. He said nothing of this to Ray. He didn’t want him to worry more than he already did on a daily basis. But the cold and the dreams persisted, like a piece of Lucifer had gone with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So sometimes Frank would do the reckless thing and leave the house late at night, when he knew Ray was deep asleep, and head to the arena. His equipment was still where it was left, and he took the time to clean it properly before donning the armour and strapping on his sword belt and shield. The training dummies were still erected in the arena that he could make use of, but it had been some time since he truly practiced the sword. He started with basic exercises, moving from one stance to the next as he had been taught. He stumbled once or twice, started over from the beginning whenever he did. When he felt pleasantly limber, he decided to turn to the dummies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he turned, he realized he wasn’t alone. He caught sight of pale hair in the stands, far up so he couldn’t make out any distinctive features. The figure waved, and Frank raised a hand in greeting. Nothing happened, so he continued his march to the dummies to move through basic movements. More applied this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt fluid with the short sword. Like it was an extension of himself. He had skill in one area then. And yet those around him would rather play with him. If Camio and Ray could see his inherent value in his skills, then why couldn’t they? It made him frustrated, and it made him swing the sword harder until he could feel the strikes reverberate up his palm and into his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled back as the sweat dripped into his eyes, his hair plastered to his forehead. He rolled his shoulders and noticed there was an ache in his back. It wasn’t from his sword play. His wings were acting up again, a constant reminder that—ruined as they were—he shouldn’t be hiding them. Not God’s Gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your work is amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice caught his attention, and he shifted his stance, ready for a fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Didn’t mean to spook you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond watcher from the stands had come down to the edge of the arena. Frank sheathed his sword and pushed his damp hair back. He wasn’t too keen on getting close to the other demon. He wasn’t in the mood in making friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Frank asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon shrugged. “Sometimes you need to get away. Witching hours are always quiet here. Too much activity up above to keep us contained.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank hummed but offered no commentary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I’ll see you around,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see,” Frank said and the demon nodded. He had a soft smile on his face—one that was quietly asking for more but wouldn’t press further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was alone, he went through his cool down stretches before cleaning and returning his gear. He returned home soon after that and crashed out on his bed without slithering beneath the covers. Food was left on his nightstand when he woke up late into the day. Ray had been by. He probably had his suspicions about where Frank was going, but he was giving him his space until he was ready to talk about his issues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he ate his breakfast and went out to get another tattoo. It was slowly becoming a comforting interest of his. This time he received a line of script on his ribs—</span>
  <em>
    <span>pater noster qui es in cælis. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The first line of the Lord’s Prayer that the artist gave him an odd look for, but she didn’t say anything. Frank was thinking that religious imagery was a sign of rebellion down here. As if to mock God and His angels by being a demon and bearing such iconic images.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not how he was seeing it, but it didn’t leave him anymore harassed than he already was. But he was beginning to notice that not as many people were taking interest in him as the Fallen anymore. Now that he was no longer a regular face at the arena, he wasn’t given as many looks whenever he wandered back to the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was safely returned to the house—still empty for Ray had yet to return from course for the day—he spread himself out on the floor with a pillow resting beneath his chin and chest so he could fold his arms before allowing his wings to unfurl from their place upon his back. It was painful, much like trying to relieve a cramp. He could hear the bones creak as he extended them until his feathers touched the floor. He wasn’t expecting it to hurt so much. It was worse than he remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray returned to find him lightly dozing while his wings were lax against the floor. Frank jostled at the sound of the closing door. He blinked and shifted his wings. They still ached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good day?” Ray asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank merely grunted into his arms and yawned as Ray shucked off his formal court robes and laid out on the nearest couch. He stretched out a hand to poke at the healing tattoo on Frank’s ribcage and smirked when he earned a whine of protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you need to be like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re the one who insists on getting overtly religious tattoos,” Ray said. “Why shouldn’t I?” Again he poked at him until Frank shifted just out of his reach. “Are your wings hurting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded. “It’s been building up. Can’t keep them hidden all the time.” He heard Ray shift next to him and he opened an eye to see him sitting up and hunched over Frank’s back with a hand outstretched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and watched as Ray set a hand to his back and let his magic flow into Frank’s shoulders and up into his wings. It soothed the joints and allowed him to close his wings without any pain for the first time all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just trying to help. Say. There is something I need to, uh, talk to you about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Frank folded his wings into his back to conceal them and pulled his shirt back on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, remember the other day when you asked about what a trial for a demon is like? Well, the trial is for tomorrow and I thought--thought that maybe I should sit you down and talk about it. They’re . . . these sorts of trials aren’t pretty. They’re not common, not by Hell’s standards, but it’s a full court. All the Princes come in. They get intense. Like, really intense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? You think I’ll be able to handle it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank, I’m trying to be serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it, man. I get it. This is Hell. It’s not sunshine and roses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shook his head. “Just prepare yourself, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Angels can try angels. Demons can try demons. But they cannot try each other for crimes the other has committed. It is impossible to do so. So they have their own courts and their own proceedings, but the key difference is angels can be banished to Hell. Demons cannot be banished elsewhere, so they are held in torment for damn near eternity or they are destroyed. Their essences scattered so thin they cannot manifest themselves so they are forever trapped as the breeze in the wastelands, the voices unheard in the corridors. A horrible fate if never given respite or a second chance. Demons aren’t known for second chances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first demonic trial Frank witnessed was for the one crime demons could be charged with. Excessive Pride. Pride that goes above and beyond Lucifer’s initial Pride to stand against the Father. For this case, the demon in question had been harvesting souls made through contracts at crossroads and keeping them for herself. She had hoarded them away, feeding excessively off their power and essence as she believed they belonged to her. They were meant to serve </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>and not be thrown to the wolves in Hell with the rest of them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was standing in the center of the court, two of the Devil’s guards flanking her. There were several hellhounds wandering the room before being called to heel by Camio themself. Ray was in the Council’s seating and Frank found a place to stand and watch two balconies up. He watched as the courtroom filled, all the seats being taken up by rowdy and raving demons. First to arrive to settle them was the Devil’s retinue followed by the Devil himself. He took up his seat at the head of the room. He was soon joined by the other Princes, taking up the raised seats behind him. Last to arrive was Lucifer himself, and a hush fell over the room. Ray had once said Lucifer seldom arrived to demonic trials as of late, but today, for some reason, he had decided to join them. Frank felt his gaze pick him out among the crowd and Frank kept his eyes trained on the demon on trial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil held up a hand to quiet the crowd. “We have gathered here today to witness the trial of the demon known as Leraie. May the Council produce her charges.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray stood. “She is guilty of the crime of Excessive Pride, to which we are allowing her to prove herself innocent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excessive Pride,” the Devil mused. “Well, a serious charge no doubt. Leraie.” He grinned, teeth looking sharper than ever, paired with his empty eyes. “You may have the floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon looked dishevelled. Surely the days spent in isolation did her no good. But there was something wild about her—untamed to a dangerous degree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pride?” she said incredulously. “This was no </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pride. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This was survival. What are we demons but a perversion of God’s precious angels? Shouldn’t we take what we are owed? As individuals? Is that not what we have been taught? If I am guilty, I am guilty of Gluttony. I am guilty of Greed. But Pride not be it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To this Mammon rose from her seat, looking glorious as ever if sharp at the edges from the way she gleamed in the red fire and torchlight. “I can’t see why we cannot let Leraie pursue her passions. Collecting human souls for the purpose of one’s desire can hardly be seen as Pride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should agree,” Belphegor said, the Prince of Gluttony with crooked horns and missing, yellowed teeth. “Gluttony consumes and it is a pit that cannot be filled. It is insatiable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil held up a hand and the two Princes took their seats. “The facts before us are that you took human souls for your own. Souls that do not belong to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but to Hell. Not to one single demon. Not to even Lucifer himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be seen that way,” Leraie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can be? Or is? Because I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gentle tapping noise upon a bannister alerted everyone’s attentions to Lucifer. Frank felt enraptured by what he was witnessing. The energy was tense. He could almost taste it on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I might, Prince Satan,” Lucifer said, in that same, soft cadence he used when Frank first visited him. He stood from his seat and slowly descended to the floor to stand before the Devil, hands gently clasped in front of him. “What makes a demon truly Prideful? For that was the first Sin was it not? That I, Lucifer Morningstar, stated my Pride before the Heavenly Father and He did cast me out for it. Because I dared to question Him. And this is a source of Pride for all demons. That we might have a place to call our own, free from the laws He put upon us. Laws that we did not agree to. But collective pride. That which we </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel for this place we have created. That is not the crime we see here today.” He pointed directly at Leraie, and Frank felt the energy in the crowd shift to something more hostile. He dug his fingers into his palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Individual, narcissistic, self-seeking Pride in </span>
  <em>
    <span>owning </span>
  </em>
  <span>a soul. Keeping it for one’s own benefit is the crime I see here today as the Prince of Pride,” Lucifer continued. Leraie was shaking, but Frank could tell it was out of anger and not fear. “Souls belong to Hell. Not to me, not to any other demon here. For that is their punishment, and it is not up to us to decide what we can do to them as individuals. You did not take those souls to be gluttonous or greedy. You took them because you figured you wished to make your own Hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you know?” Leraie said, hands fisted at her sides. “Lucifer the coward. Hiding in his Tower with the Damned. As if he feels remorse for what he has done. For what he has brought us into! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>liar!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She lunged with surprising speed, claws out and teeth like fangs, but before she could even reach Lucifer, the hellhounds snapped forward. There was a scream, a spray of blood, and the crowd erupted, demons clambering, shouting. Frank was jostled on both sides as the demons leaned over the bannister to get a closer look and join in on hollering as Leraie was attacked on all sides, surely to die before the court.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the first show of violence Frank had ever been exposed to. He knew of human wars and fighting, but had never been close to witness. It was worse than the tournament, for this was purposeful violence--hot and raw. He felt his knees shake, and he stumbled. His vision was beginning to tunnel and he knew he would collapse if he didn’t get any air. He was crowded in, felt claustrophobic. Like he might drown, be trampled by everyone around him. And then he felt a strong arm around his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. Let’s get somewhere quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was taken to an outer balcony that looked over the other buildings of the court and council. He fell hard against the bannister and sucked in great lungs of air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. The feeling will pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades that rubbed encouragingly. He felt drained by the time he could breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, I need.” He started to sink down and the demon at his back let him. He curled up against the bannister and blinked slowly. He was still shaking, and the screams of Leraie as she was torn to pieces were still echoing in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dissolved into sobs soon after. He didn’t know how to process this. He should’ve asked Ray rather than asserting he would be fine to witness this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” the demon said. “It can be a lot to witness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can still hear her,” Frank moaned, clutching his hair. “Is it always like this?” He looked up at the demon, unsurprised that it was the blond fellow that had been his shadow companion for the past while now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell! All of it! It’s always going to be pain and misery, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon crouched, then sat beside him, reaching to touch his shoulder and Frank found himself leaning into it. “The trials are the worst of it, I’ll admit. They’re always running high, but there are upsides to this place. You just have to be patient and look for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank shut his eyes tightly and sniffed as he wiped away the tears. He huddled in on himself and tried to ignore the proceedings of the trial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could compel you,” the demon offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank turned to look at him. The light was bright where they were so he couldn’t get a good look at him. “Compel? In what way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing too serious. Just to quiet the mind a bit. Take off the edge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank might come to regret this later, but at the moment he would do anything to have it all taken away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Father, forgive me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I want that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” The demon gently placed his hands on either side of Frank’s head, framing him gently and encouraging him to look into cool blue eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She went with a whisper, not with a bang.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was like a warm blanket settled over him, calmed his racing heart and twisting stomach until he was able to process what really went on in court today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said, and the demon smiled kindly at him, once again laying an arm over his shoulders and making Frank feel all that more special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be expected to learn if you aren’t shown the way?” the demon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank found himself nodding along and falling for the comfort the demon was offering.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Father, save me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Frank said nothing to Ray of his new—friend? companion?—acquaintance. They hadn’t even exchanged names yet, and Frank was not in the mood to see it develop further. He’d been burned before, and he didn’t want to lose a potential new friend so quickly. Especially since the demon—while fairly laidback—didn’t bombard Frank with so many questions about his position as a Fallen or about his tattoos or what skills he was useful for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This moment between him and the demon was for Frank and Frank alone. Plus Ray wasn’t the type to invade his privacy. He even knocked on Frank’s bedroom door before he entered it despite it being his house still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the trial, he remained largely on his own, stayed close to the house. The compulsion the other demon had put on him left him only with dreams that he couldn’t recall the next morning. The only time when he would leave was when he was requested by the Devil to deliver messages to Lucifer. It was only ever too Lucifer as he had said, which Frank appreciated. It gave him something to do, a reason to get out of the house. He felt like he was slowly coming to know Hell and the creatures within it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He commissioned another tattoo—the signs of the Seven Seals running down his spine, each with a small symbol of what each Seal would bring the end of the world. It certainly didn’t help the ache in his wings, but with each strip of skin covered in carefully crafted ink the better he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eventually became a topic of conversation between Frank and his mystery . . . demon. They started to become more acquainted whenever Frank went to visit the court because he and Ray were meaning to go somewhere else after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like we keep running into each other,” the demon said, hands tucked carefully into his robe as if he were bashful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank had a warm feeling in his chest as the demon looked at him where he was sitting, book open on his crossed legs as he sat and waited for Ray. “Seems like that,” he said. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Learning,” the demon said. “I’m being trained to be a part of the Council.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, congratulations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon smiled with a (cute) quirk of where he smiled off to the side. “Thanks. It’s, uh, been a long time coming. Feels like I finally made it, ya know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank did, to an extent, even if most things he tried here he failed at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say I was thinking,” the demon said. “We should get together some time. Properly. Instead of wandering into each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank closed his book and unfolded his legs, setting one foot on the floor and keeping his other knee folded up against his chest. He was aware of their physical differences. The demon was tall, broad and could likely break Frank if he wasn’t quick enough. But he always held his body open and inviting—not intimidating or trying to make a show. Just simple and steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank needed steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you have in mind?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s some nice sights to see. Secrets and all. Tunnels that lead to cool places. I mean, only if you want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. That sounds pretty good to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well. I’ll come to you then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know where.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. See you around, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t exchange names until they met up next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Bob by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I sort of know. I’ve spoken with Ray a few times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank shrugged. He was okay with people knowing him before he knew them. It came with the territory and he had to accept it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So where are you taking us today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figured I could show you the tunnels. Maybe get a peak of Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank perked up at the mention, and Bob was suppressing a smirk. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, just a peak. Going out into Earth is tightly regulated. It’s the whole pact we have with Heaven, but at the very least I could take you to one of the more scenic ones. Or to one of the big human cities. Have you heard of Paris?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded. He heard of it for its cathedral and nothing more. “I haven’t seen it though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tunnels were one of the ways to get to Earth from Hell. They required no portals, no magic. Perfect for younger and less powerful demons who needed to get to a crossroads or were being summoned by humans who didn’t know better. Frank had never even attempted to find one. And here Bob was showing him to Earth like it was no big deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stairs upwards were narrow and the tunnels dark, but Frank was excited. He wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Earth. Every angel did. It was God’s creation. Where better to serve him than being there with the humans he had created? But for demons it was a different reason. It was a desire to attain something they had been denied. A place to let their hatred be known, their desires run free, and Frank could feel that now. He could feel it in his legs and the way he wanted to run and never look back. Like it was finally an escape from Hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Bob asked. Frank nodded, and he was led to the tunnel opening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tunnel led them into a darkened house. The air tasted different here—less like smoke and lighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Bob said. “We can take a look out the window. We can’t go too far. Otherwise I’m sure an angel will know we’ve been here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank stepped forward and came to stand at Bob’s side and he was blown away at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans changed so quickly. Frank felt as if he was still thinking of them during the Renaissance. But this was so much more. Paris was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>glowing </span>
  </em>
  <span>at this time of night, and in the midst of it was a tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They just built it,” Bob said. “I heard the people hate it, but it’s become a sight. The Eiffel Tower. Tallest structure in all of Paris.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank leaned out over the window. He wanted to get lost in it. He wanted to walk on the streets and mingle with the people. He wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly </span>
  </em>
  <span>experience human culture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was torn out of his farcical dreams when Bob reminded him that, “We should go. Before someone gets suspicious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank nodded and went with a little pressure of Bob’s hand on his arm, guiding him back to the tunnel hidden within the corner of the room and back down they went to Hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank was wistful on their way back to Ray’s house. He knew he couldn’t push his luck. Bob was already bending </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> rules for him. “Thanks, you know, for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no problem. I like to go up there on my own if I can. It’s nice to get away for awhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank hummed in thought. He would hardly admit this aloud, but sometimes he did think of escape. Early on during his time here as well after the disastrous tournament. He could run away. Other demons had if Ray was to be believed. Did that mean he could one day leave?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you leave if given the chance?” Bob asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe it was because Frank was tired of fighting. He was tired of having to regard everyone suspiciously. Couldn’t he have a friend? Couldn’t he attempt to rebuild himself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always wanted to visit Earth,” he said. “If I could do it without all the restrictions, I’d jump on it. You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bob shrugged. “I’ve been working my way up to the Council for a long time now. Kind of want to see where it goes. But I’m hoping this might mean I’ll go on longer missions up top. See what I can do there. Well. This is you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bob stopped at the steps leading to the house door, which Frank ascended. “We should do this again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should,” Frank replied. “Again. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no problem. Have a good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank sighed as he entered the house. He felt light. He felt good. And walking into the house as Ray was cooking was even better. He drifted into the kitchen, following the wonderful smell of spice and warmth. He headed to the stove and dared to lift the lid of the pot that sat over the burner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put it down,” a tired voice came from behind. He had just set the lid down when Ray grabbed one of his horns. He was pulled back against Ray and directed away from the stove. Though he did put up a bit of a fight, attempting to grapple with Ray’s wrist and try and turn the situation back on him, but to no avail. Ray shoved him down onto a couch before releasing him, ruffling his hair as he went. “Where’ve you been off to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out,” he said, wanting to hold onto his secret for a little while yet. “How was court?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh. Nothing too exciting. I managed to get my hands on some new songs for my guitar if you wanted to practice. They’re in the den.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I just might. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now go wash up,” Ray said, again gripping Frank’s horn and giving his head a little shake as he drifted back to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if Frank couldn’t have access to Earth, he was content with having Ray.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So why tattoos?” Bob asked. He had come to find Frank at the arena again as his latest tattoo was being added. They were quick. He had “Hail Mary” inscribed along his fingers in plain English. Added to his back were simple inscriptions of various symbols from various human faiths and cultures. He had the unicursal hexagram, the triple moon, and the spiral goddess—all done in simple black ink. He was just pulling his shirt on as he turned to Bob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like them. I’ve always wanted to capture some sort of meaning to them. Like what I was thinking at that moment or feeling rather. I don’t know. Sometimes they just look cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bob nodded along. “I can respect that. Have you ever thought of . . . piercings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “Never crossed my mind.” He’d seen the overt piercings other demons had, but at the time he knew they were impractical when it came to his training. Camio even warned against it for those training under them. But. That didn’t mean Bob’s suggestion wasn’t worming its way into Frank’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’d look good with some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Frank leaned on a table across from him, trying poorly to hide his smile when Bob looked at him. “What would you suggest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d look pretty mean with a lip piercing.” Bob leaned in to gently point at a spot on the corner of Frank’s mouth, along his lower lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to ignore the way it made him shiver. “You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone can pull it off, it’ll be you.” He let his hand hang there by Frank’s lips before he straightened. “I should be going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank blinked. “Uh, yeah. Same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He toed around the question with Ray later on. About love. About relationships and if they could happen in a place like this. He was taught that demons couldn’t love. That they could only feel pain and misery, but Frank knew the contrary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, demons hook up,” Ray said as he worked on tuning his guitar. Frank sat on the ground, chin on the table with his wings out so they could at least stretch. “They hook up all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but like.” He licked his lips, pausing on the corner of his mouth and idly wondering how a ring would feel there. “What about relationships? Living together. That sort of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we do that too. They may not be taken as seriously as they do on Earth or even in Heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank didn’t mention that such relationships were considered taboo in Heaven. Not that there was a law prohibiting angels from being intimate with each other, but it was considered a distraction that took away from their service to God.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re looking to get into something with a demon, word of advice, stay away from the lust demons. And the greedy ones. They just don’t make good relationship material.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank wrinkled his nose. He knew of the ‘sins’ of the body. They weren’t really sins, but they could become as such. An unfulfilled appetite that no matter what a demon did they’d never feel satisfied. And Frank wasn’t really looking for that. He was looking for something longer lasting, something that was more than just a tumble underneath the sheets. Sort of what he had with Ray and . . . and to an extent what he had with Bob. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>more. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Deeper.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He looked in as to where he could get a piercing. There was a shop near the Court that offered such things, so Frank signed himself up for it and walked out with a lip piercing. Just a thin slip of silver. He needed nothing more than that, but not he was thinking of piercings in his ear, his nose. Slowly adding to the collection of artwork on his body to fill in the gaps he didn’t know had been there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like the piercing,” Bob said next time they met up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank had invited him into the house when he knew Ray would be out. They were settled in the den where Frank was sat on the ground with Ray’s guitar in his lap. Frank was idly strumming and trying to focus on the chords despite how close Bob was. How he could feel his body heat next to him, see the soft smile on his lips as he looked at Frank with clear crystalline eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he said, keeping his head down so he could focus on the guitar and not the way his stomach flipped when Bob stretched his arm out behind Frank’s shoulders onto the couch behind them. Every so often he could feel Bob’s eager fingers against his shoulder. An invitation of sorts. “Been thinking about getting more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, have you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm. Maybe a nose piercing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a septum piercing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank gave him a look to which Bob snickered. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dick.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you could pull off any look. But I won’t tell you what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“’course you won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh-ho. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Someone’s being prickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank leaned over if only to shove at Bob with his body even if he was sort of endeared by the teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me that new song you’re working on? I’d like to hear it.” Bob slouched further down against the couch and onto the floor. He folded his hands over his stomach and turned his face towards Frank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank pursed his lips and nodded. He tried to ignore the way his face was warming and set his fingers to the chords. He was finding it harder and harder to deny Bob anything, and honestly? He was pretty okay with that.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, Frank?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I ask you something? Do you ever miss it?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Heaven. Being an angel?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. Sometimes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Would you go back? If you could?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Frank was lying out on his stomach on the floor of his bedroom. He had invited Bob up under the pretense of playing some more music, but ended up with his shirt off and his wings bared. Bob had wanted to see and Frank had been meaning to bring them out if only to clean them a bit. It wasn’t like it made a difference, but it did dull the pain in his back if only minutely when the remaining feathers were straightened. Bob volunteering to help with his was merely a perk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A very nice perk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised they all haven’t fallen off yet,” Bob said, reaching over to help straighten some of the few remaining flight feathers. “I’ve heard of some Fallen taking time before all their feathers fall out. And then they transform fully into a demon after that. Their wings all pointed and leathery, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think that’ll happen to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe. I kind of like it this way though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. The wings? Your horns? Makes a striking look, don’t you think?” Bob reached over to drag his finger over Frank’s horns. They had a nice spiral up the length of them as they jutted straight up and back, angled back against his forehead. They would surely grow tall and stately and he was looking forward to it. They were thin, lean like the rest of him—nowhere near as thick and bulky as Ray’s were at the base of them. But the horns were his own, and the larger they became, the more demon he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he closed his eyes, it was like he could feel Bob’s hands on his horns, running his fingers up and down the length of them and their unique grooves. He was still getting used to the new growth of his horns, thinking about how big they might get, how they made him feel like he actually belonged here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bob withdrew his hand, Frank opened his eyes to look at him. He flexed his wings and gently folded them against his back but decided to leave them be. He missed their weight when he retracted them into his back, fully hiding them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like you lost a few,” Bob said, looking at the few feathers that littered the floor—now a sickly grey where they used to be a stark white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. It happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gathered them together and reached under his bed for the box. He set the feathers in there with the one Camio had returned to him, the one Bryar tried to take—to </span>
  <em>
    <span>steal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will you do with them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank shrugged before closing the box and tucking it away once more. “I’m not sure. They’re the last thing I have, you know? Hard to give up on something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bob was understanding in a lot of ways people weren’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray never asked if Frank had friends over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Should’ve been a clue.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was always so convenient that Bob was available to see Frank at Ray’s house whenever Ray was gone. Frank never thought to ask Bob to see where he lived, what places of Hell he liked to frequent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time he saw Bob, he felt like all of his troubles were distant, muted. Like he could be open with Bob, share the things he didn’t think he could with Ray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(How naïve. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He asked Frank to meet him near the Pits. The Hellfire Pits. An absolute must see in Hell that Bob was surprised to discover Frank hadn’t seen yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll like it. It’s very striking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I look forward to it.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Heading out to see someone?” Ray asked. He was sprawled on the couch after a long day at court. He could see where Frank was fooling with his hair in front of a mirror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Frank has a crush, does he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at Ray with his cheesy grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So who’s the lucky demon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, First name none-of-ya, last name business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray snorted and Frank finished off with his hair before turning attention towards his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously. Who is it? Is it someone I know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to keep Ray out of his life if only because he showed genuine interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name is Bob. I’ve been talking to him for a while now. He’s . . . nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, Frank. Nice? That’s all you got for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the one to kiss and tell. He says he’s getting onto the Council with you. I’m sure you’ve seen him around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d you say his name was?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bob.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray frowned. “Can’t say I have. You’ll have to ask him if he’s from a different domain. Maybe then I can put the pieces together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing. I’ll be back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoy yourself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strode out of the house with a sense of purpose and of pride. He could be proud of this, right? He was finally fitting in, making friends, making </span>
  <em>
    <span>something something </span>
  </em>
  <span>with Bob—if it ever turned out to be that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hellfire Pits, as Bob had described them, were located closer to the centre of Hell itself. It was a long walk, but rank was up to it. It gave him a lot of time to settle the butterfly feeling in his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He should’ve picked up on his intuition to </span>
  <em>
    <span>run. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not to stay.)</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The Hellfire Pits are the punishment fields of Hell. They certainly are a sight—pockets, craters littering the ground that are filled with Hellfire, the burning green and yellow flames. It’s said that the first demons fell here. That this is where Lucifer and his Princes landed when God finally cast them down. They’re a place full of magic and madness. To lesser, younger demons the promises of Hellfire can grow too tempting and some have been known to throw themselves into the pits. Older demons know and respect the power of Hellfire, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t immune of its intoxicating effects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank first saw the fires from a distance—caught a glimpse of the unnatural green glow, and could feel the heat. Not overwhelming yet but simply there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found a nice perch to overlook the fields and simply enjoy being in the presence of such power. He could feel it prickling against his skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hellfire. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Truly a terrifying force that was said to be unleashed with the second coming of Christ.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You beat me to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank turned at the sound of Bob’s voice. He was standing a few feet back from Frank, and for some reason his figure wouldn’t focus. Frank blinked a few times to clear his eyes, but still Bob remained blurred at the edges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Bob said and Frank couldn’t help but smile and agree. He started to pace forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen Hellfire before,” he said, turning to look at the flames that licked over the edges of some of the pits. He heard Bob come up behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm. It hasn’t been used since the Great War. They say only the Princes can wield it and that it burns anyone undeserving of their place in Hell.” He felt Bob’s hand on his shoulder. It moved to the back of his neck and swept through his hair before settling on one of his horns. “I wonder if trial by Hellfire might be more fitting for a demon that hasn’t truly burned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank hummed in question and tilted his head back to look at Bob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach sank when he saw not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bob </span>
  </em>
  <span>but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bryar.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His image was crystal clear now in a way that Frank had never noticed before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And before he could move, before he could shout, Bryar gripped the base of one of Frank’s horns and pulled until—</span>
  <em>
    <span>pop!—</span>
  </em>
  <span>a sickeningly wet sound gave way along with Frank’s horn.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He was tossed down the slope, tumbling down as the root of his horn bled profusely, running hot and sticky down his face, over his eye and his nose, into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wondered if you’d ever pick up on it,” Bryar said dryly. “If you’d ever become proficient in withstanding magical attacks. You know, I was curious about you. You’ve inspired the loyalty of Ray to save you. You have the Captain’s good graces and even the Devil hasn’t cast you aside yet. You’re a puzzle, but look at you now. Pathetic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank kept one hand clutched uselessly to his skull as a futile attempt to stem the bleeding. “Y-you used a glamour on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did. Did you think I really cared about you? That anyone would? You’re so gullible, Frank. Hardly deserving of such fine horns. I think I’ll use them for a new pair of daggers. What do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank groaned and tried to right himself, roll himself onto his hands and knees so he could stand up and fight Bryar. Before he could, however, Bryar bared his pale wings with the red spirals that made Frank feel weak and heavy. The fear was cloying at this throat, making it difficult to swallow in the face of such power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>weak. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And when I finally expose your secrets to the Council, your longings, your dreams for what you once had, you’ll be branded as a traitor. Unfaithful to the Princes you serve. An angel that hangs onto the shreds of his Grace like it’ll protect him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something curdled deep inside of Frank. It hardened into a pit that only grew with all the feelings of resentment, of betrayal, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he was feeling. It morphed into something larger than that. Hateful, spiteful, full of wrath. And so Frank began to stand, feeling the effects of Bryar’s compulsion slide off of him like oil. Bryar’s face morphed into shock until he settled on frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just never learn, do you?” he sneered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no weapons there—neither had come prepared for an encounter such as this, so it had to be done by hands. They scrapped and they scraped just as Frank had witnessed other demons do in the past. Bryar was taller, larger than Frank. He was older, more powerful, but Frank was quick. He was small and he wasn’t afraid to fight dirty. He managed to get his fingers underneath Bryar’s ribcage, causing him to howl and fall back. He hunched over, allowing Frank to curl his hand into a fist and deliver a hook against his chin, sending him stumbling back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t get to decide things for me! You don’t get to take things from me!” he shouted, throat hurting from the exertion. He felt as if he was seeing red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed forward, brimming with an emotion he couldn’t name, but he tasted it on his tongue. Like the copper from the blood of his ruined horn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you think you belong?” Bryar retorted. He spat onto the ground, red staining his lips from where he bit his tongue. “I’m just doing what everyone else is too cowardly to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was still partially hunched, Frank readied himself for another attack, but this time Bryar feigned low, leaving Frank’s flank entirely exposed for a quick and harsh hit to the soft skin between his ribs and hip. It was enough to knock him unsteady on his feet, enough for Bryar to seize Frank’s remaining horn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was futile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other horn was wrenched from his skull, and the fight was taken from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapsed onto the ground as his vision clouded over in bursts of yellow and white light. But Bryar wasn’t finished with him. He grabbed Frank by the back of the neck and pulled him along the ground towards the Hellfire Pits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why waste this on a trial?” Bryar muttered. “The Hellfire will determine if you belong here. You’re sweet, Frank. But there’s no place for sweetness in Hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he tossed Frank into the Hellfire.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Hellfire doesn’t just burn. It reveals. It reveals who people truly are, burning away all their lies and deceit until what’s left of them in their raw form. Just as it had burned away any of the Grace the Princes claimed they once had, it would burn at Frank, try to eat at what remaining Grace clung to his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it didn’t. It didn’t try to scrub him raw of everything that didn’t belong in Hell. It fed into him, tapped into that feeling of pure rage—of Satan’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wrath </span>
  </em>
  <span>that had been building up inside of him since Bryar had nearly killed him. And that Wrath burst out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had landed at the bottom of the pit hard--hard enough for it to feel like he’d broken bone. He remembered screaming. He couldn’t hear it except for a dull ringing in his ears, but he could feel it in the way his throat felt scratched from the inside. He felt the heat of the flame in his eyes as the tears clung to his lower lashes. He poured out his grief into the fire and it burned it until there was nothing left but the hatred in his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the bottom of the pit, his wings burst from his back, shrouded in the flames of Hellfire. Spurred on by the power of Wrath, Frank rose to his feet. His wings beat and beat and beat and he flew out of the pit, body coated in the green and yellow flames of Hellfire, eyes a burning bright red like that of the setting sun. Bryar had his trophies clutched in one hand. He turned when Frank’s wings beat, sending licks of flame forwards. His eyes widened at the sight of him—an angel bathed in Hellfire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You—you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t—</span>
  </em>
  <span>” But before Bryar could get out another word, Frank had him by the throat. He beat his wings, hovered above the ground, lifting Bryar with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said nothing but looked into Bryar’s eyes—hardened yet fearful. Fearful of what Frank could do with all this untapped Wrath spinning within him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated those eyes. He hated that he fell for them. He hated that there was nothing in them for him. So he set his free hand over Bryar’s eyes and burned them.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>His memories of that day are cloudy at best. The Hellfire only held him together for so long before it left along with his Wrath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapsed to the ground to a screaming and blind Bryar and fell unconscious. For a moment he believed he was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it comes to angels and demons, they do not die like humans do. Their essences do not go to some special place for all eternity. Instead, they fade, detaching from their physical forms and becoming so unstable they are unable to form a thought. Angels can be called back by God if He so chooses, but demons--they’re gone forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth seeped into his body from the top of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—okay. It doesn’t look too deep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t tear out the root. If you continue to heal him, Frank will survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what of Bryar, Captain? Something should be done about this. What he tried to do—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Ray. I know. When he heals, he’ll likely be questioned. His behaviour, it’s . . . it’s odd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s more than odd! </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t know who he was until it was too late. He was using a </span>
  <em>
    <span>glamour </span>
  </em>
  <span>on Frank. On </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>In </span>
  <em>
    <span>our house. </span>
  </em>
  <span>All to get close to Frank and hurt him like this. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He took his horns. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And what? He’ll get away with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know as well as I do the ways of Hell. Even if the Council were to investigate Bob, what would be the charges? You know what they would be looking for, Ray. The least you could ask for is that the Devil banish Bob from his domain, keep Frank safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray sighed, and Frank tried to open his eyes but they felt stuck. A warm, damp cloth swept over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I should get used to this,” Ray said, softer this time and Frank assumed they were alone. “I’m sorry I didn’t clue in soon enough. I should’ve smelt him out whenever he was at the house. Guess he’s just too powerful. Even for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the warmth spread into him again, radiating throughout his entire body until he fell asleep.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He felt as if he were starting from the beginning. It took so many days—weeks? months?—before he could open his eyes and walk about. Even with Ray’s healing abilities, the wounds of his horns still bled sluggishly from time to time. Yes, he was upset about his horns, but he was more upset about Bob’s—Bryar’s betrayal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I could find someone who’d love me,” he whispered, hard to be heard one night when he and Ray were resting side by side in bed. “He actually wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me. About my life. Not just what I wanted to do here, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>my life.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He sniffed and Ray reached out to rub his shoulder. “I thought I could trust him. I was so stupid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I should’ve seen him for what he was. No one would ever be that nice to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” Ray said and his voice sounded like it was breaking for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank let himself accept the comfort for a moment. But he knew he had to face this. He couldn’t hide any longer like he’d done for so many, many years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what possessed him to ask Ray to heal Bryar. But lying in bed, exhausted from his ordeal, he was left with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. That Bryar would be blind for the rest of his days like the Devil. Frank’s heart was hurt, yes, but it wasn’t hardened. He wasn’t naturally a vindictive person and he didn’t think he was going to start being one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray happened to save only one of Bryar’s eyes. It was fitting, an eye for two horns. It was the best Frank could ask for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would leave the house periodically even as he was recovering. To counter the throbbing pain in his head, he decided to invest in more tattoos, more ink to cover up that bare, vulnerable feeling that crawled against his skin. He received a large one upon his chest—the vision of Saint Constantine, when he finally promised himself to the service of God and effectively ended the might of Rome. To compliment it, along his lower back he depicted the Fall, of Lucifer falling to Hell where Hellfire would greet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did notice that demons were staring at him again. Whispering like they had never seen him before. It was another day before Frank received the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Devil wants to see me,” he said to Ray after reading the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Did it say why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I assume he wants to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to go with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I want to do this on my own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the next day Ray saw him off at court while Frank strode down the familiar hallways. The Devil wasn’t alone when he arrived at the chambers. Camio was there, and Frank relaxed a little in their presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” the Devil said, turning his head in Frank’s direction but not rising from his seat. “How good of you to join us. Please. Take a seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank did as he was told and sat down. This time he dared to look at the Devil and take in the size and shape of his horns—like an elk’s—looked into his empty eyes and beheld nothing but a dark void. He felt nothing. No fear. No apprehension. Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know whether to take this as a moment of pride or concern that he felt nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So our dear Captain has told me of everything that has transpired between you and the Envious demon Bryar,” the Devil said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust their word,” Frank said, glancing quickly at Camio who stood there stoically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I would like to hear it from you. Especially the moment when you fell into Hellfire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s there to say? Bryar tore out my horns and tossed me into the pit. Afterwards I flew out and I burned him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Flew </span>
  </em>
  <span>out. With your wings? Oh, Frank, you didn’t merely fly. You wielded Hellfire. A very curious thing for a very curious being.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew the Devil was looking at him. He refused to fidget or look away. “So I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil hummed and a smile graced his lips. “You’ve changed, Frank. You’ve shown something I’ve never seen before. Whether or not this is a good thing, time will have to tell us, but I’ve discussed this with our Captain. You will be trained to join my personal retinue. To stand before me as I deliver the punishments of our fair Court.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I wasn’t good enough,” Frank said and he didn’t know who he was saying it to. Did Camio assert this? Or did the Devil merely think he was an interesting trinket to keep around?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you are plenty good. You show aptitude for learning how to counter and discover magical attacks. To wield Hellfire even—my, oh, my. There is so much I believe you have ye to show us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, my Lord.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you can see yourself out,” the Devil said, flicking a hand in his direction as Camio gave a short bow. “I do so look forward to working with you, Frank.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank stood up and left with Camio at his back. When they were a good distance away from the Devil’s personal chambers, Frank turned to ask them, “Was this your decision?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” they said. “He asked for you in person. He thinks one of the other Princes might try to claim you after your little display with Bryar. But he is doing this for his gain and not your own comfort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank scoffed. “I expected that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have skill, Frank. Don’t doubt yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.” But he hesitated on elaborating further. “I look forward to training with you, Captain. I’ll see you on the field.” And he left before Camio could get out another word.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He became somewhat of a celebrity in the time that followed his fight with Bryar. The demon who could wield Hellfire. There was a sense of awe around him that drew demons in. Wanting to take a look at him, his stature, his ink. He grew to like it if only because they were showing him positive attention for the first time since he had arrived here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Positive attention that warranted looks and glances and touches that were more than teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d fall into the bed of many willing demons who wanted their piece of him, which he had no problem with. He discovered the sin of the flesh and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God </span>
  </em>
  <span>what a beautiful sin it was. Not quite the sin of Lust, but he could see what a slippery slope it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all wanted to see his tattoos. It was a common theme among his partners. They wanted to see him for the stories, the spectacle rather than the being beneath it. It gave him a safe feeling of invisibility without rendering him truly invisible. They saw him for his fame and not who he truly was. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry about it, so he merely went with the sweetest demons who asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His days were filled with an intensity of training, Camio hurling magic based attacks at him in the likelihood that the Devil would be attacked. He had the skill for it, possibly due to his remaining Grace. He just had to learn how to use it, like another muscle. When he wasn’t training, he could be found at home, plucking at Ray’s old guitar or wandering Hell. Sometimes he would get lost in his head and miss out on a session with Camio, and Ray would always give him a sad look whenever he returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” he asked one night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Frank gave a half shrug. “I feel fine. Just a bit . . . lost.” He couldn’t explain it other than that. Lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He received his formal robes for the Devil’s personal guard. The cloak he wore pinned to his armour was heavier than expected and it rooted him to the time and place he was in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he entered into service as another guard for the Devil—his transformation complete from overeager Fallen to somber demon achieved. And what did he learn? That Heaven, Hell, Earth—they were all cruel places that didn’t accept differences and expected conformity. It was all the same in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To cheer him when he was in one of his dour moods, Ray had ascended to Earth to retrieve a gift for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And electric guitar,” he said, showing Frank how it worked and what it plugged into. It was so different from the lighter, acoustic guitar that Ray had first brought home. “I know you’ve wanted your own for a while, so why not an upgrade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made a heavier sound than the acoustic. Loud and deep as soon as Frank got his fingers on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he said. “I love it.” He could hardly take his eyes or hands off of it, tuning the strings and strumming along, playing with these new dials and connections to make it all that more loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hear me! Listen to me!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want Ray to worry about him. Ray was already under enough stress as it was—an empathetic demon serving on a court in Hell. But he could always feel Ray existing on the edge of his mind, the edge of their psychic bond. Always wanting to check in and ask, but that shouldn’t be Ray’s responsibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he channeled his numbness, the remains of his grief and rage into music. Into lyrics and notes, something he used to do up in Heaven. Music. He missed it, didn’t think there’d be a place for it in Hell. But here it was so different. It was quick and painful, the chords and the lyrics mixing into a mournful ballad, pouring forth the things he dared not say or show. Not anymore after Bryar ruined his ability to trust anyone with his secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his emotions for his music and never let them out of the house. They didn’t have a place out there, in the Court, standing before the Devil and his low throne, milling around the townships and streetways with Ray after he was done work for the day. He didn’t let anyone know the real him. He didn’t think there was a use in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all Ray could do was watch from the sidelines and offer support when it was wanted. But with music, music they could speak and listen to each other’s unspoken thoughts—sometimes with Frank providing a quick rhythm and Ray filling in the gaps with the melody. It settled something in him, some desire to thrash around and smash everything in sight, from throwing himself into the Hellfire pits just so he could have some semblance of that power again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something inside of him that was desperately empty, and he didn’t know what he could do to fix it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He commissioned another tattoo upon his forearm. Saint Jude the Apostle—the forgotten saint of desperate situations. Wasn’t Frank desperate though? He felt like he could pray again, but what was the point in it all? God didn’t care. The Devil didn’t care. Lucifer </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t care. Why bother at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got an assignment,” Ray said as he finished the final strums of their set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank set his hand flat against his strings. “Must be big if you know about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned back against the edge of Ray’s bed. He didn’t know how he felt about an assignment coming out of the blue. Camio would usually tell Frank themself about these things. Unless they didn’t know or couldn’t tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s to test your loyalty,” Ray added, and that sentiment pissed Frank off. It curdled into something sour in his stomach. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re they having me do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never been briefed on matters of Earth before. He had a sneaking suspicion they wanted to keep him here. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They </span>
  </em>
  <span>being the Devil and the other Princes no doubt. Couldn’t lose their special little </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fallen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s on Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank turned to look at Ray. He leaned forward. “And? It’s on Earth—</span>
  <em>
    <span>and?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s all I know,” he said and Frank knew when to hold his tongue. “I’m only telling you because I don’t trust these. You’re never sent on these. You’ve proved your loyalty already. A long time ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could he have to prove? Were they suspicious of his tattoos? They were just colours and lines. They meant nothing in Hell. Nothing ever did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will I still be able to talk to you?” Their bond was stronger than ever, but it always felt strained whenever Ray was sent away, and he didn’t like the idea of being along on Earth where an angel could potentially find him and finish the job in removing his Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I’ll try but I have no clue what you’ll be doing up there. And don’t expect me to just swoop in and save your ass if you manage to find trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” He set a hand on his chest, half affronted. “Trouble? Never.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ray shook his head. “And everyone wonders why I put up with you. Come on, Frankie boy, it’s time to eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day he would dress in his formal robes, pinning his cloak in place so he could look his best as Ray walked with him to the Court. He was escorted to the Devil’s chambers and Ray was allowed in with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil wasn’t alone with him. Lucifer was there as well, the large demogorgon Lucille at his feet. Camio stood at the Devil’s right hand side, and Frank came to stand between the two Princes. He turned to the Devil first and bowed. “Sir.” And then turned and repeated the gesture to Lucifer, tacking on a “Sire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer tilted his head and looked to the Devil. He looked rather bored, head propped up on a closed fist as the other carded through the mangy fur of Lucille. “Have out with it,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Devil grinned, a tight-lipped smile that spoke of tension existing between the two Princes. “Frank, it has been decided that you will be sent to Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what purpose, Sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will be checking in on several proteges and their charges. To ensure they’re doing their dastardly duties in bringing souls to Hell. A progress report if you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frank bit his cheek. “Whatever I must, Sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. You will be provided a list of humans to check in on. To see how their progress is coming along and making sure they aren’t being put upon the path of the Straight and Narrow. Now, as per the decree we have with Heaven, a demon’s power is limited unless a human invokes those powers through their own free will. You will have to be resourceful, but we know you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>full </span>
  </em>
  <span>of surprises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sir. When will I leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, immediately. I will allow you some time before we send you through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gave Frank a moment to convene with Ray quietly in the corner with Camio sparing them glances from where they stood. Ray started to unpin his cloak from around his shoulders as Frank unlaced his vambraces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Ray was saying. “I’ll have your back. You know I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I just wonder why </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who? The Big L? I wouldn’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He set the vambraces onto the neatly folded cloak and pulled down his shirt sleeves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine. You’ll enjoy yourself, and maybe . . . maybe this is what you need.” Ray smiled at him, encouraging enough for him to step forward and approach the Princes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucifer was standing now and while the Devil and Camio were chatting idly, the Morningstar approached Frank directly. He gently took up his arm and pushed back his sleeve to show off his tattoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saint Jude,” he murmured. “The lost saint. So called because many conflated him with Judas Iscariot.” He ran his finger over the flame upon Saint Jude’s head. He brought his eyes up and Frank couldn’t help but meet them. “I wonder, Frank, for thirty pieces of silver a mere human was willing to give up the Son of God. What might your price be for your betrayal?” His face was neutral and he lifted a hand to Frank’s cheek before stepping back and sinking into his chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frank,” the Devil said. “Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, Frank, I charge you with the following task. Good luck.” He smiled, wide and cruel like he knew more than he was letting on, but the Devil was always like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Camio stepped forward and with a snap of their fingers a portal formed in front of Frank, and he stepped on through.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Frank walks into a coffee shop for warmth and sustenance. He looks up at the board to see what’s available, what he might like to try and eat, figuring out how transactions occur on Earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human behind the counter at the register catches his eye. Black hair with teal coloured roots. Tears in their eyes. When he gets close, he asks, “Are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And somewhere, deep in the recesses of Hell, the Morningstar says to himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Awake, arise or be forever Fallen.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it's out there! it's finally done!</p><p>i really want to thank Honestmouse for the support and being allowed to share this because i honestly had a lot of fun writing it and i really enjoyed Heaven's Rain a lot. it was a lot of concepts that i love writing about.</p><p>who knows. maybe i'll actually write original stuff for this fandom some day. we'll see</p></blockquote></div></div>
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